


Ordinary Acts of Bravery

by JustAPunter



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent - Fandom, Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 41,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1715042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAPunter/pseuds/JustAPunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lorraine thought she would always be in Amity, always with her family.  But her aptitude test changes all that, turning her world upside down when she receives a Dauntless result.  She chooses Dauntless, changes her name to Rain, and becomes acquainted with an aloof, mysterious Dauntless-born initiate named Dante within the first week of her training.  Their lives and fates become intertwined when Dante is instructed to help Rain reach her potential.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ordinary Acts of Bravery](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/52574) by JustAPunter. 



I’ve only been to the Hub once before. It was three years ago, on Choosing Day, when my older brother was sixteen. He chose Amity, but he never came back to live in our house. Instead, after initiation when the new members of Amity are allowed to move out of the initiation barracks, he married Annette Fleming and they moved into their own house. Annette is a year older than Paul, and had lived at the end of our block for as long as I can remember. I never knew he was in love with her until he told us- our parents and me- that they were getting married. She, it turned out, had chosen to stay in Amity the year before Paul’s Choosing because of him. My parents think it will be the same with me tomorrow. I’m not so sure.

It started with the flowers. Last spring, I opened the door as I was leaving for school and there was a bouquet of handpicked flowers on the front step. My father and mother were right behind me; Dad ready to drive several students and myself to school and Mom heading to Greenhouse 3 to work on grafting fruit trees. They saw what I saw. And that was Ben Hirsch’s back disappearing around the corner of the house next door. He was the only person in sight, and he was one of five kids that my father drove into the city for school that day. The only one who was blushing constantly and staring at his hands clasped in his lap, not speaking to anyone. Twice I caught him glancing at me, and both time his blush deepened.

I’m definitely not in love with Ben Hirsch. 

I mean, he’s all right. He has blond hair and green eyes and a nice smile, but he’s wholly unremarkable in personality. He never does anything different that makes him stand out in my mind. Come to think of it, neither do any of the boys I know. The thing with the flowers? That’s how most Amity boys tell Amity girls that they like them, or vice versa. But my parents work closely with his parents, and they seem to think we are a great match. Problem is, no one ever asked me for my opinion. No one ever does in Amity, until you’ve been through initiation. Only then is your voice counted.

Today is going to be my last day at the city school. Tonight will be that last meal I eat with my parents as a child. Tomorrow, we will all go into the city together- even Paul and Annette are coming- and I will take part in the Choosing Ceremony.

Amity seems like a good place for me; I have been climbing our fruit and nut trees to help with the harvests since I was five. I learned about starting summer vegetables like tomatoes and peppers in the greenhouses in early spring to ensure a bountiful harvest all summer. My mother says I am the best with potatoes, though. Last year, I planted an entire bed of them myself, took care of it all summer, and we had a huge harvest; much bigger than the other beds planted by the Amity children.

But I never set out to help with harvests, grow tomatoes, or cultivate potatoes. I did these things because they are all an outlet for my boundless energy and my wonder of living things. Plants are well and good, but people are much more interesting. Or even animals, I think, even though I’ve never worked with the livestock on the farms. When I was eight I sat on a plow, with my father pushing from behind, as two massive horses pulled it up and down one of the corn fields because the farm’s tractor was being repaired in the city. I was awed by the massive animals and their sheer strength, and I guess I’ve been fascinated by them ever since. I have been fascinated by anything that seems out of the ordinary to me. And it worries me, because I don’t know anyone else in Amity who feels that way.

“Lorraine, it’s almost time to go!” My father calls down the hall to me. I call back that I’m nearly ready, and finish braiding my auburn hair. I tie the end of the single braid with a yellow ribbon, and then slip my red cardigan on. I’m wearing my favorite yellow dress, but it’s sleeveless and it’s raining today. I take a moment to peruse my reflection in my dresser mirror before leaving. I’m nothing special to look at, really, unless you like redheads. Even then, I think I’m pretty plain: green eyes of no particular notability, a sprinkling of freckles on a straight nose, lips of average size. My forehead may be a bit coarse along the brow thanks to my dad, but other than that, a completely unremarkable face. Plain Lorraine; that’s what some of my classmates call me. I don’t disagree.

There are seven of us riding in the truck into the city today. Ben is one of them, and as usual, he avoids eye contact but is continually sneaking glances at me. I do my best to ignore him. There have been four bouquets since that first one, and the last one had a hand-written note. I never even read it. I’ve never even really talked to Ben since we were children. I don’t really want to. Maybe that makes me cruel.

As usual, all of our classes at school today are half their usual time. We turn in final assignments, get our estimated grades from our teachers, and then head to the cafeteria for lunch. Amity’s table is second from the end of the room, with Abnegation at the end farthest from the door. I retrieve my lunch- an apple, a baked potato, a slice of ham, and a carton of milk- and sit down next to Holly Colton and Barry Thompson.

“Lorraine, why don’t you ever eat sandwiches like the rest of us?” Holly eyes my potato, then glances at her peanut butter and jelly sandwich on brown bread. Most of the Amity kids are eating the same thing. I roll my eyes. I’ve told her a hundred times if I’ve told her once.

“I’m allergic to the glutens, Holly, remember?” I say as gently as I can. Holly is a nice girl, but a bit of a featherhead. 

“Well, I think we should be allowed to have ham and potatoes for lunch, too.” She replies.

“You could, if you were in Candor. They eat this stuff every day,” I tell her. Her eyes get big and round.

“Does that mean you’re transferring?” She asks.

I laugh. “Holly, we haven’t even taken our aptitude tests yet! How would I know if I’m even capable of being in Candor?”

“Oh, yeah,” she giggles. “I guess that makes a difference.”

The subject of the aptitude test makes everyone in earshot nervous, so I drop it. We spend the rest of our lunchtime on eating and pleasant, albeit nervous, small talk. After about an hour, the test administrators walk in and open the ten doors on the long side of the cafeteria: the testing rooms. I wait for what feels like an eternity before the Abnegation woman with the blonde hair tucked into a neat knot on the back of her head calls my name.

“Lorraine Harper.”

I stand, suddenly unsteady, and walk toward her. The door closes behind us, cutting off the nervous banter and shuffling of those waiting in the cafeteria. 

“Hello, Lorraine. My name is Natalie and I’ll be administering your test today,” she motions to the chair in the center of the room, indicating that I should sit. I do, as she takes a seat at the computer beside it. She hands me a vial with a clear liquid in it.

“Drink this, then lean back and close your eyes.”

I do as she says.

When I open them, I find myself back in the cafeteria. The room is deserted, and two baskets sit on the Amity table. I walk up to them, and see that one holds a hunk of cheese and one holds a large knife. 

“Choose.” The voice startles me, and I look around the room trying to find its source. But I am alone. I look back at the cheese and the knife.

Cheese I know about. I’m Amity; we make the stuff. I think about the trucks of cheese being loaded off to the city every month from the dairy farm up the road from my home. But the knife is a tool I’ve never encountered, at least not one this big. It isn’t like the knives we use in our kitchen for cutting meat or vegetables; it has a long, thick, curved blade and a handle that suggests a firm grip. I reach for it, and wrap my hands around the handle. As I lift it from the basket, both baskets vanish, along with the cheese. I hear a door behind me creak open. I turn, and a huge dog enters the room at a dead run. It is snarling, hackles raised, each long, swift stride closing the distance between us.

I still have the knife in my hand.

For a moment I feel my grip tighten on the handle, and then I have a very clear, rational thought:

What am I going to do with a knife? I’ve never used a weapon in my life and I have no idea how. I also know that, unless I time it just right, I will miss my chance to strike at the dog and…

I don’t think about “and”. I throw the knife aside and drop into a crouch, hands out as if to catch a ball being tossed to me, eyes on the dog. When it’s two strides away from me, the dog leaps. I go belly down and launch myself forward. I grasp in desperation and manage to catch it by the back legs. I draw myself up quickly, but I’m still too slow. The dog bites my foot. I yell and somehow kick free, grateful for the thick leather shoes I’m wearing. I manage to get behind the dog, gripping its back legs. It can’t attack me now, because each time it reaches back with its head, I sidestep and throw it off balance. We are at an impasse.

Then the door to the testing room I walked into moments ago opens, and a man I have never seen before walks out. He is dressed in black and white: Candor. He whistles sharply and says something in a language I don’t understand. I feel the dog relax, and hear it begin to pant. The man says something else in the strange language, and he shifts his gaze from the dog to me. I say nothing. He repeats himself, this time louder.

“I’m sorry, I can’t understand you,” I say.

“Release the dog. He won’t try to hurt you again,” he says. I let go, and the dog stumbles a few steps, and then walks placidly to the man’s side.

“How did you know to hold him from the back?” The Candor man demands.

“I… uh… I’m not sure. It just made sense. Get far away from his teeth, and into a position where he can’t reach me,” I reply, feeling foolish.

The man says something else in the strange language.

“I can’t understand you,” I repeat. The man simply nods, then begins walking towards me. When he reaches my side, he turns to face the dog again. It hasn’t moved.

“Why didn’t you take the cheese?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” I say, feeling small and foolish.

“Yes you do. Why don’t you tell me?”

“No, I don’t know why I didn’t take it.” Something inside me tells me that I can’t let him know that the knife was so fascinating, and the cheese so ordinary, and that I’d rather have the more interesting thing. That knife was meant to be a weapon, I’m sure, and Amity forbids weapons. So I must lie to him.

“Tell me!” the man shouts.

“I don’t have a reason, okay?” I shout back. “I was told to choose between two things and I just picked up one without thinking about it at all!”

The man glares at me, then says something in that strange language again. The other nine doors to the testing rooms open, and nine more dogs enter the room. Now there are ten, and all of them begin to snarl and growl at once, and begin moving towards me.

I can’t fight them all. And I know, I just know, that if I ask him, even if I beg, the man won’t make the dogs stop again like he did before. I know that he is controlling them, and he continues to call commands to them.

Suddenly I know what I have to do. I cast about the room, and finally I spot it under a table about a dozen feet to my left: the knife. I must get away from the man in order to get to it, and I have only seconds before the dogs reach me. I dive again, sliding on my belly on the cool tile floor. I grab the knife and scramble to my feet. The dogs are closing in on me in a semicircle, the nearest one only a few feet away. I crouch and back up slowly with the knife held out before me. Then I see the Candor man’s sleeve in my peripheral vision. He hasn’t moved. I straighten and pivot, raising the knife over my head. I bring it down, sharp and swift, burying it in the left side of the man’s chest. And now I know I’m doomed, for I have committed the worst imaginable crime: murder. 

I open my eyes, and I am lying in the reclining chair in the testing room. Natalie is sitting at her computer, and the only way I can describe her expression is “dark.”

“You killed him?” she asks.

“He...” I croak; my throat is dry. I swallow hard, and realize that I’m trembling. I try again. “He was controlling the dogs. I couldn’t fight off ten dogs, so I had to stop them at their source.” It’s the worst possible excuse, even though I realize it’s the truth.

“Interesting,” Natalie replies softly. “Well, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a more decisive aptitude test result.”

“What was it?” I ask.

“Everything you did; every decision, every action, is most definitely Dauntless.”

“Dauntless?” The Freak Show, with their tattoos, piercings, outrageous hairstyles and daredevil antics? Me? How, when Amity is all I’ve ever known, all I’ve ever considered?

Then it dawns on me. The challenge of growing the best crops; the thrill of climbing to the very top of the trees; riding on top of the plow. These are Dauntless challenges, Dauntless thrills, Dauntless values, disguised in Amity trappings.

* * *  
I leave the testing room to wait with the others who have taken their tests. When everyone is finished, we are dismissed to return to our homes. I know that my father has already delivered his truckload of produce to the Abnegation warehouse for distribution and rationing, so I’ll have to take a bus to the fence that encircles the city. Most of us on the bus are Amity, although I do spot three or four Erudite blue shirts near the back. The gate nearest my family’s farm is close to Erudite headquarters, so it’s not unheard of that a few of them will ride the bus with us now and then. Although our factions work closely together to develop better ways of growing plants, the Amity kids don’t really socialize with the Erudite kids unless we have to. So, they have the back of the bus and we have the front. This afternoon, no one does much talking. I guess we are all thinking about tomorrow, and the decision that we each have to make. The decision that will determine the rest of our lives. 

A tractor with a hay wagon meets us at the gate, and we pile in for the ride home. I see Ben as I am getting off the bus, and am careful to sit on a bale of hay that’s as far away from him as I can get. As we bump and bounce our way toward the farms, I feel the wind picking up from the northwest. My gaze travels to the horizon in that direction, where I see heavy, gray clouds rolling in. Looks like rain tonight.

Even though it’s my turn to make dinner for my family, my mother insists that I should relax and reflect on my aptitude test results. Neither she nor my father asks me about it, except to ask how it went. I lie with a smile, and tell them it went just fine and that I’m not worried about anything.

But I am worried. I never considered being in Dauntless. I sometimes wondered about Erudite, thinking maybe it would be interesting to work with scientists to develop new ways to grow crops. I even wondered about Abnegation, and how I could help the Factionless. The only two factions I never considered were Candor and Dauntless, and today I learned that I seem to have been born for Dauntless. I guess I never really knew myself at all. And I know what that means.

I manage to eat enough of my dinner to convince my family that I am fine, and even offer to wash the dishes afterward. But my father steps in, and both of them encourage me to go to bed early because we have to be up and ready to go to The Hub for the Choosing Ceremony. They remind me that Paul and Annette are joining us, and it’s clear to me that they are certain that we will all leave the city tomorrow as we came in: as a family.

 

I toss and turn for a long time before I finally fall asleep. My dreams are abstract and confusing, involving jumping from moving trains into the marsh and not being able to free myself from the mud. I see Paul and Ben and Holly walking past me, but I am dressed all in black and they don’t recognize me. I call to them for help, and Ben just glances at me and shakes his head. He is dressed in a yellow shirt and red overalls.

“Faction before blood,” he says, and walks away. I look again where he was standing, and there is a bouquet of wilted flowers on the ground. I see that they are red and yellow zinnias.

When I wake up, the light coming through my window is dim and even. I hear rain hitting my window. A gloomy day isn’t going to help my mood. The dreams made me realize what I’ll have to leave behind, and the reality of this hits me like a fist in the gut. I go through my morning routine like a puppet, guided by muscle memory that tells me how to brush and braid my hair, and how to lift forkfuls of egg to my mouth. Before I realize it, it’s time to leave. Paul and Annette pick us up in their cargo van, and we all ride into the city together. Paul tries to ease some of my obvious tension by talking lightheartedly about his own participation in the Choosing Ceremony, and about how he knew that he must choose Amity because Annette was his destiny.

“You’ll know what yours is too, Lorraine, when you’re standing up there in front of the bowls. And I know you’ll make the right choice. You’re my sister, after all,” he tells me as we are driving through the gate and into the city, all awash in gray under the slate-colored sky. He, too, seems so sure that I’ll choose Amity and that we will all be coming home together in a few hours.

I can’t tell him. I can’t tell any of them.

At last we arrive at the Hub. Paul parks the van in a lot across the street, and we hustle through the rain and into the lobby. We take the elevator up to the floor where the auditorium is located. Inside, we take our seats among the other Amity members. The Abnegation members sit to our right; the Erudite to our left. The Dauntless are as far away from us as they can be in this half-circle room: clear on the other side of Candor. At least there are no windows in the auditorium, so we can’t see or hear the rain outside.

After Marcus, the top Abnegation official in the city, makes a short speech about the tradition and importance of the Factions, the names of every sixteen year old in the city are called one by one. And one by one, we all choose the Factions where most of us will spend the rest of our lives. Sure, some will fail initiation and end up factionless, but most of us will succeed. I hope I will be part of that greater percentage.

I find myself zoning out, wondering what initiation is like in other factions and what could possibly go wrong in order for someone to fail. I shudder when I think about Candor and Erudite initiation. There is no way I would possibly make it through. But Dauntless… how fascinating I find it, imagining what it would be like. Probably learning from hard-faced men and women with muscles like chiseled stone how to jump blindfolded from a moving train and land on your feet…

I am jarred back to reality when an all too familiar name is called:

“Benjamin Hirsch.”

I glance around the Amity section and finally spot Ben rising from his seat a few rows in front of us. He walks slowly to the dais and takes a knife from Marcus. He makes a small slice in the fleshy part of his palm, and waits a few heartbeats for the blood to flow. Then he steps forward and very decisively holds his hand out over…

The Abnegation bowl. A few drops of his blood dapple the stones, blending with that of the others who chose that faction earlier. And me, I can’t believe it. Ben Hirsch, with his bouquets and his subtle, persistent attempts at wooing me, in Abnegation? But there he is, for all of us to see, leaving Amity and walking across the dais to join the Abnegation recruits. My eyes follow him; I don’t know why. Maybe I feel a bit betrayed because of my brother and his wife’s choices. I feel a small pang of loss, because I know I’ll never get those bouquets again, even though I never welcomed them to begin with. When he reaches the Abnegation bench, he looks up and our eyes meet. He hesitates, then offers an awkward shrug and a forced smile. I try to smile back, but I can’t. I look away.

“Lorraine Harper.”

My mother has been holding my right hand, and my father my left, since the first name of the Ceremony was called. Not hard; they have been holding them gently, and again I am certain that they are convinced of my choice. I squeeze both hands and then release them quickly. I know that this will be my last moment spent with them until Visiting Day… if they decide to come see me. I start down our row toward the aisle that leads to the dais. Paul rises as I reach him, seemingly to make room for me to get past his long legs. I glance into his eyes and he nods to me. Then, so softly that no one else can hear, he whispers.

“Be brave.”

And I know that my brother knows which choice I will make. He has known all along. He knows me better than I know myself. And yet he kept that knowledge from my parents, from Annette, and even from me until this moment. I feel a burning in my chest; overwhelming gratitude for my brother and those two words. I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth, but it’s bittersweet. That could very well be the last moment I share with Paul, too.

I reach the aisle and take a deep breath. I square my shoulders and raise my chin. Today I am proud to be Plain Lorraine, because Paul Harper is my brother and he supports me even though I am making a choice that will take me out of my family’s life forever. Because this moment is mine, and I will always remember it, always remember how I felt. I don’t want to remember feeling frightened or guilty or sad. I want to feel proud… and brave.

I reach the dais and stand between the five bowls that represent the five factions. I take the knife from Marcus and, with a steady, certain grip I make a small slice in my palm. I wait only long enough for the blood to flow sufficiently, then I extend my arm over the smoldering coals of the Dauntless bowl. There are three hisses as three drops of my blood contact the coals, and I retract my hand. I glance up at my family. Paul is applauding vigorously; Annette politely, but with a look of surprise on her face. My parents both seem frozen; neither of them has moved. They wear identical expressions of shock and disbelief. I tear my eyes away. I was right about them expecting me to choose Amity.

Instead I focus on the front benches of the Dauntless section, where I am greeted by thunderous applause, the stomping of booted feet, piercing whistles, and a cacophony of shouts. I hesitate for just a moment; after living amongst so much red and yellow, it’s intimidating walking toward a wall of black-clad, pierced, tattooed people who look like they are about to riot. But it’s because I chose them that they are making all that noise and pumping the air with their fists. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I belong to something. 

The uncertainty and intimidation pass. My shoulders are back and my head is up as I take my place between two Dauntless-born recruits who returned to their original faction earlier in the Ceremony. One is a girl, slightly taller than me, with blue-grey eyes and black hair with a bright red streak on one side. The other is a boy, tall and lean with long, straight brown hair that he has tied back in a ponytail. I can’t tell what color his eyes are because he is staring at the floor, apparently uninterested in the events of the Choosing Ceremony.

“Hi,” the girl extends her hand to me. I clasp it and shake it awkwardly; in Amity, we usually greeted each other with a light hug. “I’m Erica. And this is Dante, but he probably wouldn’t tell you that himself.”

“Nice to meet you, Erica. Nice to meet you, Dante,” I say, addressing them individually and equally; Amity tradition. Dante makes a noise in his throat, and glances sideways at me. His eyes are a remarkable shade of brown. At first I think that they are the color of chocolate, but then I realize that they are somehow closer to the color of fire.

“Oh, he acknowledged you!” Erica says, sounding somewhat sarcastic. “That means he must like you!”

I offer Dante a smile, but I feel awkward and stiff. Dante snorts, and moves away from us. I feel like I have done something to offend him.

“Don’t mind him,” Erica says, rolling her eyes. “He’s just moody. And he doesn’t like to talk to girls in public.”

“Oh, okay” I say, feeling foolish and awkward. I watch Dante walk away, but I lose him in the crowd. Then the next name is called, and I return my attention to the Choosing Ceremony.


	2. Chapter 2

I leave the testing room to wait with the others who have taken their tests. When everyone is finished, we are dismissed to return to our homes. I know that my father has already delivered his truckload of produce to the Abnegation warehouse for distribution and rationing, so I’ll have to take a bus to the fence that encircles the city. Most of us on the bus are Amity, although I do spot three or four Erudite blue shirts near the back. The gate nearest my family’s farm is close to Erudite headquarters, so it’s not unheard of that a few of them will ride the bus with us now and then. Although our factions work closely together to develop better ways of growing plants, the Amity kids don’t really socialize with the Erudite kids unless we have to. So, they have the back of the bus and we have the front. This afternoon, no one does much talking. I guess we are all thinking about tomorrow, and the decision that we each have to make. The decision that will determine the rest of our lives. 

A tractor with a hay wagon meets us at the gate, and we pile in for the ride home. I see Ben as I am getting off the bus, and am careful to sit on a bale of hay that’s as far away from him as I can get. As we bump and bounce our way toward the farms, I feel the wind picking up from the northwest. My gaze travels to the horizon in that direction, where I see heavy, gray clouds rolling in. Looks like rain tonight.

Even though it’s my turn to make dinner for my family, my mother insists that I should relax and reflect on my aptitude test results. Neither she nor my father asks me about it, except to ask how it went. I lie with a smile, and tell them it went just fine and that I’m not worried about anything.

But I am worried. I never considered being in Dauntless. I sometimes wondered about Erudite, thinking maybe it would be interesting to work with scientists to develop new ways to grow crops. I even wondered about Abnegation, and how I could help the Factionless. The only two factions I never considered were Candor and Dauntless, and today I learned that I seem to have been born for Dauntless. I guess I never really knew myself at all. And I know what that means.

I manage to eat enough of my dinner to convince my family that I am fine, and even offer to wash the dishes afterward. But my father steps in, and both of them encourage me to go to bed early because we have to be up and ready to go to The Hub for the Choosing Ceremony. They remind me that Paul and Annette are joining us, and it’s clear to me that they are certain that we will all leave the city tomorrow as we came in: as a family.

 

I toss and turn for a long time before I finally fall asleep. My dreams are abstract and confusing, involving jumping from moving trains into the marsh and not being able to free myself from the mud. I see Paul and Ben and Holly walking past me, but I am dressed all in black and they don’t recognize me. I call to them for help, and Ben just glances at me and shakes his head. He is dressed in a yellow shirt and red overalls.

“Faction before blood,” he says, and walks away. I look again where he was standing, and there is a bouquet of wilted flowers on the ground. I see that they are red and yellow zinnias.

When I wake up, the light coming through my window is dim and even. I hear rain hitting my window. A gloomy day isn’t going to help my mood. The dreams made me realize what I’ll have to leave behind, and the reality of this hits me like a fist in the gut. I go through my morning routine like a puppet, guided by muscle memory that tells me how to brush and braid my hair, and how to lift forkfuls of egg to my mouth. Before I realize it, it’s time to leave. Paul and Annette pick us up in their cargo van, and we all ride into the city together. Paul tries to ease some of my obvious tension by talking lightheartedly about his own participation in the Choosing Ceremony, and about how he knew that he must choose Amity because Annette was his destiny.

“You’ll know what yours is too, Lorraine, when you’re standing up there in front of the bowls. And I know you’ll make the right choice. You’re my sister, after all,” he tells me as we are driving through the gate and into the city, all awash in gray under the slate-colored sky. He, too, seems so sure that I’ll choose Amity and that we will all be coming home together in a few hours.

I can’t tell him. I can’t tell any of them.

At last we arrive at the Hub. Paul parks the van in a lot across the street, and we hustle through the rain and into the lobby. We take the elevator up to the floor where the auditorium is located. Inside, we take our seats among the other Amity members. The Abnegation members sit to our right; the Erudite to our left. The Dauntless are as far away from us as they can be in this half-circle room: clear on the other side of Candor. At least there are no windows in the auditorium, so we can’t see or hear the rain outside.

After Marcus, the top Abnegation official in the city, makes a short speech about the tradition and importance of the Factions, the names of every sixteen year old in the city are called one by one. And one by one, we all choose the Factions where most of us will spend the rest of our lives. Sure, some will fail initiation and end up factionless, but most of us will succeed. I hope I will be part of that greater percentage.

I find myself zoning out, wondering what initiation is like in other factions and what could possibly go wrong in order for someone to fail. I shudder when I think about Candor and Erudite initiation. There is no way I would possibly make it through. But Dauntless… how fascinating I find it, imagining what it would be like. Probably learning from hard-faced men and women with muscles like chiseled stone how to jump blindfolded from a moving train and land on your feet…

I am jarred back to reality when an all too familiar name is called:

“Benjamin Hirsch.”

I glance around the Amity section and finally spot Ben rising from his seat a few rows in front of us. He walks slowly to the dais and takes a knife from Marcus. He makes a small slice in the fleshy part of his palm, and waits a few heartbeats for the blood to flow. Then he steps forward and very decisively holds his hand out over…

The Abnegation bowl. A few drops of his blood dapple the stones, blending with that of the others who chose that faction earlier. And me, I can’t believe it. Ben Hirsch, with his bouquets and his subtle, persistent attempts at wooing me, in Abnegation? But there he is, for all of us to see, leaving Amity and walking across the dais to join the Abnegation recruits. My eyes follow him; I don’t know why. Maybe I feel a bit betrayed because of my brother and his wife’s choices. I feel a small pang of loss, because I know I’ll never get those bouquets again, even though I never welcomed them to begin with. When he reaches the Abnegation bench, he looks up and our eyes meet. He hesitates, then offers an awkward shrug and a forced smile. I try to smile back, but I can’t. I look away.

“Lorraine Harper.”

My mother has been holding my right hand, and my father my left, since the first name of the Ceremony was called. Not hard; they have been holding them gently, and again I am certain that they are convinced of my choice. I squeeze both hands and then release them quickly. I know that this will be my last moment spent with them until Visiting Day… if they decide to come see me. I start down our row toward the aisle that leads to the dais. Paul rises as I reach him, seemingly to make room for me to get past his long legs. I glance into his eyes and he nods to me. Then, so softly that no one else can hear, he whispers.

“Be brave.”

And I know that my brother knows which choice I will make. He has known all along. He knows me better than I know myself. And yet he kept that knowledge from my parents, from Annette, and even from me until this moment. I feel a burning in my chest; overwhelming gratitude for my brother and those two words. I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth, but it’s bittersweet. That could very well be the last moment I share with Paul, too.

I reach the aisle and take a deep breath. I square my shoulders and raise my chin. Today I am proud to be Plain Lorraine, because Paul Harper is my brother and he supports me even though I am making a choice that will take me out of my family’s life forever. Because this moment is mine, and I will always remember it, always remember how I felt. I don’t want to remember feeling frightened or guilty or sad. I want to feel proud… and brave.

I reach the dais and stand between the five bowls that represent the five factions. I take the knife from Marcus and, with a steady, certain grip I make a small slice in my palm. I wait only long enough for the blood to flow sufficiently, then I extend my arm over the smoldering coals of the Dauntless bowl. There are three hisses as three drops of my blood contact the coals, and I retract my hand. I glance up at my family. Paul is applauding vigorously; Annette politely, but with a look of surprise on her face. My parents both seem frozen; neither of them has moved. They wear identical expressions of shock and disbelief. I tear my eyes away. I was right about them expecting me to choose Amity.

Instead I focus on the front benches of the Dauntless section, where I am greeted by thunderous applause, the stomping of booted feet, piercing whistles, and a cacophony of shouts. I hesitate for just a moment; after living amongst so much red and yellow, it’s intimidating walking toward a wall of black-clad, pierced, tattooed people who look like they are about to riot. But it’s because I chose them that they are making all that noise and pumping the air with their fists. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I belong to something. 

The uncertainty and intimidation pass. My shoulders are back and my head is up as I take my place between two Dauntless-born recruits who returned to their original faction earlier in the Ceremony. One is a girl, slightly taller than me, with blue-grey eyes and black hair with a bright red streak on one side. The other is a boy, tall and lean with long, straight brown hair that he has tied back in a ponytail. I can’t tell what color his eyes are because he is staring at the floor, apparently uninterested in the events of the Choosing Ceremony.

“Hi,” the girl extends her hand to me. I clasp it and shake it awkwardly; in Amity, we usually greeted each other with a light hug. “I’m Erica. And this is Dante, but he probably wouldn’t tell you that himself.”

“Nice to meet you, Erica. Nice to meet you, Dante,” I say, addressing them individually and equally; Amity tradition. Dante makes a noise in his throat, and glances sideways at me. His eyes are a remarkable shade of brown. At first I think that they are the color of chocolate, but then I realize that they are somehow closer to the color of fire.

“Oh, he acknowledged you!” Erica says, sounding somewhat sarcastic. “That means he must like you!”

I offer Dante a smile, but I feel awkward and stiff. Dante snorts, and moves away from us. I feel like I have done something to offend him.

“Don’t mind him,” Erica says, rolling her eyes. “He’s just moody. And he doesn’t like to talk to girls in public.”

“Oh, okay” I say, feeling foolish and awkward. I watch Dante walk away, but I lose him in the crowd. Then the next name is called, and I return my attention to the Choosing Ceremony.


	3. Chapter 3

The names all begin to blur together. Some I recognize as Amity members who went to school with me. Most stay in Amity; a few leave for other factions. Only one other Amity member, a boy named Joseph Becker whom I have seen at school but never spoken to, chooses Dauntless. After three hours, the Choosing Ceremony is, at last, complete.

We leave the auditorium by faction: Dauntless first; Abnegation last. This is when I find out that Dauntless don’t use the elevators to go back down to the ground floor. No, we head to the stairwell, picking up speed as we go. I am jogging to keep up by the time we approach the doors to the stairs. That is when I hear the thunder, and think that the storm outside must have gotten much worse. But as I reach the door I realize that it’s not thunder at all; it’s the pounding of booted feet as the Dauntless run full-tilt down the metal stairs. This realization sends a bolt of energy straight through me; I feel my pulse quicken, my muscles tensing with the anticipation of running down all those flights of stairs. I reach the top step, and leap right over it. My foot hits the second step and I am running, propelled forward by the press of bodies all around me. We run all the way to the ground floor, and we do not stop once we reach it. I follow the other members at our breakneck pace out the main entrance of the Hub, and turn right on Adams Street. I feel my heart jump when I realize where we a headed: the trains. 

The pavement is slick from the rain, which is now coming down in a steady drizzle, but I don’t slow my pace. On the contrary: I feel the need to push myself harder, to run even faster. I have never run so far or for so long in my life, and it feels amazing. I feel like a bird, an eagle soaring across the sky, flying free. I find myself passing some of the others; at first it is just the slower transfers from the other factions, then Dauntless initiates… then, one by one, I begin passing full-fledged Dauntless members until I am even with the three frontrunners. They are all male, and one is older than the rest. The other two can’t be much older than me. The older man is tall and lean, with white-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. The younger one who runs closest to me is square and muscular with long black hair and more metal in his face than anyone I have ever seen. The other is taller and also muscular, but not bulky like the first. He has short, dark hair and a slightly hooked nose, but no piercings to speak of. At least, none that I can see.

I keep my pace about half a stride behind them. It is hard work keeping up with them- for one thing they have longer legs than I do, so I have to take about one and a half strides to equal one of theirs. For another, these guys are super fit, and I am sure that they run like this all the time. My breaths are ragged, deep and rapid. I am aware that they can hear them over our pounding footsteps. The two younger ones glance back at me, and identical looks of surprise cross their features when they see me in my yellow skirt, red blouse, and red flat-soled shoes. The older man never looks back.

A few blocks later, we reach the iron supports that anchor the elevated train tracks to the pavement below. Here is where I hesitate, as I am not sure what to do. The three leaders don’t pause at all; they just start climbing. I watch to see where they put their hands and feet, and emulate them as I begin my own climb. Apple trees were easier, with their angles and rough bark, compared to a vertical steel beam, but I manage. I do not reach the top as close to the leaders as I was when I was running, but I am still way ahead of any of the other initiates. I am surprised to see that Joseph, the other Amity transfer, is the first of them to reach the platform. I guess he climbed a lot of trees, too.

We wait only a few minutes before the train comes into view, its horn blaring. It slows down only a little as it approaches the platform. Again I wait and watch how the other members board the train before I do so myself. They start jogging along the platform, then break into a run when the first car passes. The doors on all the other cars are open, and they jump into them. I don’t make it look as graceful or easy as they do, but I clear the platform and land on my feet inside the third car. The momentum of the train immediately throws me off balance and I throw my arms out, flailing to keep my balance. I fail miserably, and end up landing hard on my back. 

“Crap! Are you okay?” I hear a familiar voice call out. I look up to see Erica shoving her way between people to reach me. They all saw me fall- great. I feel my ears heat up, which I know means I’m blushing. I sit up and scoot to the side of the train away from the doors. Erica kneels beside me.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just don’t have much practice jumping on and off moving vehicles,” I tell her.

“So I guess those stories we hear about Amity kids playing chicken with tractors aren’t true?” She says, again her tone is touched with sarcasm. For a moment I just look at her without answering.

“Well, if they were, I might have stayed,” I say, trying to emulate her tone. Immediately she bursts out laughing.

“Oh, and I might have transferred!” Erica replies, still laughing. “That was some run, by the way. I was right behind you down the stairs, and then- pow! Once we got outside, you were like a bullet! No one could keep up with you. For a second, I thought you were going to pass Eric and Four and Harrison. Would have loved to have seen the look o Eric’s face if he’d seen that he had a girl from Amity on his heels!”

“”Which one is Eric?” I ask.

“The one with more piercings than manners,” she tells me, and I smile. 

“He did see me. He looked like this.” I do my best to imitate the raised eyebrows and wide eyes I saw on Eric’s face when I drew level with him during our run. 

“Oh man, I bet he did!” Erica chuckles, then her smile fades and her eyebrows knit together. “But seriously, it would have been bad if you’d passed him; very smart that you didn’t. He was just elected a leader of Dauntless a few months ago, and he is very proud. Challenging him for anything is the fastest way to get on his bad side, and… let’s just say it would be very, very bad to start out on the wrong foot as an initiate. He’s going to be overseeing a lot of our training. Harrison- the guy with the blond ponytail that was running at the front- he’s the main trainer for transfers, but he’s stepping down after this year. He’s training Four- that’s the guy who was running with Eric- to take his place. Eric and Four are only seventeen, making them the youngest members of Dauntless to ever have those positions. They’re both very strong, very serious, and… pretty intimidating.”

“Wow, Erica, you are handy to have around! Thank you; I’ll keep that in mind,” I say. I am grateful to have made an acquaintance of someone who knows so much about the Dauntless members that will be playing a major role in my life for the next couple of months. Plus, I like Erica. Sure, she can be sarcastic sometimes, but she is also smart and funny and radiates positive energy.

Erica gets up and walks to the open door on the other side of the train. She leans her head out, looking forward at where we are going. After a few minutes she turns back to me.

“Time to go!” she says, and everyone on the train heads toward the open doors. The train’s brakes squeal and we slow, again only a little. I get a glimpse of people jumping off the first two cars onto a rooftop. I try to make my way through the crowd to Erica, but there are too many people in the way. Our car reaches the rooftop, and people begin jumping off. I start to get antsy because there are four initiates in my way, all from Candor, who are hesitating. I can’t get past them, and the rooftop is only so long. If I don’t make this jump, I fail initiation. If I jump too late, I fall to the street below and will very likely die. I start to bounce on the balls of my feet as the Candor transfers debate the wisdom of jumping. We are seriously running out of time, and two of the girls are getting hysterical. Their debate has become a cacophony that sounds more like a coop of agitated chickens than a discussion. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I shove them aside, and leap…

I see the far edge of the rooftop beneath me. My heart jumps to my throat; I have jumped too late, too late and now I am going to fall…

…Except I don’t fall. My right foot lands squarely on the tiled ledge that frames the top of the roof. Then I bring down my left foot and… it scrapes the edge of the tile, slippery from the rain, and goes out from under me. I fall to my right knee, but my left leg slides off the edge of the roof. I scrabble madly for purchase on the inner edge of the tile with my right hand, while I grope for anything at all to hold onto with my left, which is hanging over the edge along with the entire left side of my body. I kick out with my right leg, trying to heave myself back onto the rooftop, but I’m sliding off. I hear alarmed shouts, but they sound far away and muted…

Then arms grip me around the waist and start to pull me back onto the roof. I feel the inside of my left leg scraped raw as it slides up and back to safety. I am pulled upright and hauled away from the edge of the roof. My rescuer is behind me, so at first I can’t see who it is.

“Are you all right?” The voice is quiet, but deep. I nod, breathless and shaking. My leg is bleeding, the fingernails on my right hand are broken and bloodied from trying to grip the rough edge of the tile, my right knee is throbbing and bruised, my hair is coming unbraided, and I am soaked from the rain, but I am alive. Yes, I am okay. The arms release me. I turn, and find myself face-to-face with a pair of brown eyes that are exactly the color of fire.

“Th-thank you, Dante,” I stutter. He nods, then abruptly turns away and walks back into the crowd. Everyone is staring at me, and suddenly I am aware of how ragtag I must look. My ears burn, and I cast my eyes to the gravel that covers the rooftop inside the tile frame.

“Okay, let that be a lesson to you all,” a man calls from the opposite side of the roof: Eric. “That’s a good way to end your initiation, or end your life when you’re in Dauntless: hesitation when there is a need for action. The mistake the initiates-or should I say, former initiates- made on the train was hesitating out fear. They were afraid to jump off the train, so they hesitated. They are factionless now. The mistake that she,” Eric points at me “made, was hesitating out of politeness. She waited for the others to jump because it would have been inconsiderate to cut in front of them.” He focuses his ice-hard gaze directly on me.

“Lucky for you, you were desperate enough to discard that silly Amity habit in time to save your life. A split second later, and you would be kissing pavement half a dozen stories down. As it is, you should be kissing Dante for saving your ass. Hesitation is cowardice. We don’t tolerate cowards in Dauntless, and that brings us to the next step of your initiation. You have to get inside Dauntless headquarters, which is underground, and you have to get there from this roof.”

He gestures off the edge upon which he stands. I make my way over along with the rest of the initiates. Below us, there is a huge, dark hole in the concrete. It takes me a second, but I realize what’s expected of us: we have to jump off the roof and fall into the hole.

I hear the gravel crunching as someone walks through the crowd toward the edge where we are standing. I turn to see Dante striding up, rainwater streaming down his face and through his hair as he removes his black jacket. Underneath, he wears a form-fitting black t-shirt. On his right arm is a tattoo that looks like snake scales. He hands the jacket to Eric, and without even hesitating, jumps right off the edge of the building. He disappears into the hole, and a few moments later we hear some shouting and cheering from below. 

I am still shaken up by my near fall, so I am not ready to jump just yet. I step back, and focus on breathing deeply and calming myself down. I find Erica, and she looks concerned. She gives my hand a squeeze and tells me that the sooner I jump, the sooner it will be over with. I know she’s right, but I still don’t feel like I am ready. She stays next to me until there are only five initiates remaining on the rooftop.

“You have to go soon. You can’t wait til last, or Eric and Four will see you as weak. You have to suck it up, and just do it,” she hisses to me.

I take a deep breath and release her hand. I take one step, then another and another. I am at the edge of the roof. I let out my breath slowly, and look down. I shake my head. I don’t want to see the pavement below me. I turn around and put my back to the open air and spread my arms like wings. I close my eyes and feel the rain spattering on my face. I tilt my head back, my body follows, and I am falling….

I hit the net moments later, and it bounces back up in the air. I fall to the net again, and only open my eyes when the bouncing slows. I roll over and reach for the edge of the net. Hands reach up to meet mine, and woman with a Mohawk and a tattoo that covers the left side of her skull helps me out of the net. It’s colder down here in the dark, and I have spent too long in the drizzle. I am shivering.

“What’s your name?” The woman asks me.

“L-l-l…” my teeth are chattering and I can’t seem to get it out. I inhale deeply, and look up at the overcast sky through the hole above. I just jumped onto and off of a moving train, ran fast enough to keep up with the leaders of our city’s fittest faction, and jumped off a six-story building and survived. I am no longer Plain Lorraine.

“Rain. My name is Rain,” I tell her.

“Thirteenth jumper,” she calls out, “Rain!”

Cheers and shouts welcome me, though not as enthusiastic as they were for the first few jumpers. In the darkness around me are the members of my new faction, waiting to welcome us and see what this year’s crop of recruits has to offer.

“Nice to meet you, Rain. Welcome to Dauntless.”


	4. Chapter 4

The mohawked woman is named Eileen. She ushers me away from the room at the bottom of the hole to a hallway where the other initiates are waiting. Most of them are engaged in conversation with one or more people, so no one acknowledges me when I join the group. I see Dante at the front of the pack, standing a little apart from the others. I am grateful for his help earlier and I want to tell him so. I try to catch his eye, but he is staring at the wall across from where he stands: he doesn't acknowledge me, either.

Erica joins us a moment later, and one by one the last three initiates enter the hallway to wait with us. After them, the Dauntless leaders filter in. I know there are still more members of Dauntless jumping off that roof in the rain, but we aren't given the opportunity to meet any of them. Eric, Harrison, and Four divide us into two groups: Dauntless born and transfers. Harrison tells us that we will be housed and trained separately, but we will be ranked together. That is when we find out that not everyone who made it to Dauntless Headquarters in one piece will be joining the faction: only those who rank in the top ten at the end of initiation. There are some loud protests from several of the transfer initiates- there are seven of us left. But Harrison is an expert at crowd control, and he quells them quickly enough. I never make a sound, but the gravity of the situation is not lost on me. I know that I must do well, that I absolutely must finish in the top ten.

Eric takes the Dauntless-born initiates down the hallway to show them to their dormitories. Harrison, with Four shadowing, gives us a tour of the Pit, our dormitories and training rooms, an excursion to the Chasm, and a sharp warning to keep our wits about us when in its vicinity. Before we are allowed to go to dinner, we are lined up in one of the training rooms and presented with our new Dauntless training garb. We are each given four outfits made of supple, stretchable fabric that is tough and rugged yet allows breathability. We get one pair of boots each: heavy, black leather things that lace halfway up our shins. I have no problem with them because I used to wear similar boots on the farm, but I am certain that the two Erudite transfers are in for some bad blisters.

The purchase of new clothes and other amenities is also explained: each member is awarded a certain number of points based on their position within the faction. Dauntless leaders earn the most, while initiates earn the least. Food is rationed out to everyone equally at meals, but additional food can be bought with points; along with clothing, tattoos, piercings, furnishings, and anything else we want or need. Initiates' purchases are restricted until the end of our training- we aren't permitted to buy anything that takes up extra space in our dormitories. We have footlockers that fit under our beds that hold our clothing and footwear; anything that won't fit in them is not allowed until after graduation, when we move into apartments of our own.

After we change into our new Dauntless clothes, we are dismissed to go to dinner on the Pit floor. I haven't really made any connections with any of the other transfers; Joseph, the other Amity transfer, is getting chummy with the Erudite transfers, who, it turns out, are twins. I feel more than a little awkward as I move through the tables in the Pit, unsure where I should sit, until I hear Erica all my name. She is sitting with the other Dauntless born initiates, but there is an open seat next to her and she motions me to take it. I sit, and find that all eyes are on me and the conversation has halted abruptly.

"So, this is her?" a muscular boy with blond hair sitting across from us addresses Erica. "This is the Amity chick that Dante pulled back onto the roof? What's so special about her?"

Before she can reply, someone farther down the table on the opposite side shoves a tray of food away from himself and stands abruptly: Dante. He glances at the boy who spoke, then shifts his eyes to me. I feel like his glare is going to burn a hole right through my skull.

"Does there have to be something special about someone to save their life?" Dante asks, his voice barely loud enough for me to hear. Without waiting for a reply, he turns on his heel and walks swiftly away. There is another awkward silence.

"Really, Vince," Erica scolds. "You need to learn how to turn on a filter."

"Whatever," Vince rolls his eyes at her, then returns to the plate of pork chops in front of him.


	5. Chapter 5

The first few days of training are the hardest, although I expect that they are more difficult for the former members of the other factions than it is for Joseph and myself. At least we were encouraged to spend time outdoors and getting exercise in Amity. The twins from Erudite, Leah and Spencer, seem to be struggling the most with the fitness aspect. Harrison has us run laps around the perimeter of the largest training room for thirty minutes at the start of each day and by the end of that, those two are pretty well done in for a while. But Harrison doesn't let up: we have to learn how to properly handle firearms; including loading, firing, cleaning, and caring for three different types of guns. We are taught how to throw knives, and also how to use a whetstone to sharpen the blades. We are taught hand-to-hand combat, sometimes with weapons and other times without them. Harrison's theory is that any piece of debris encountered in the environments in which Dauntless patrols can be used as a weapon, either in our own hands or in the hands of adversaries. He teaches us not only how to use these things- pipes, pieces of cable and rope, shards of glass, sticks, and rocks- but also how to defend ourselves against others using these objects against us.

On our fifth day of training, I am pitted against Nate, one of the Candor transfers, in armed combat practice. Nate is big; almost six feet tall and still growing. He is also strong, and getting stronger as we train. But then, so am I. I know that if I'm quick enough, I can get in the first few hits, maybe shake him up enough to win. We step into the ring, and I size him up beneath the glare of the overhead lights. Who am I kidding? He's going to pulverize me.

Four has strewn debris about the ring, mimicking the items found on the average city street outside. Harrison instructs Nate and I to each pick up one piece- and one piece only- to use as a weapon. We are clad from ankle to neck in combat suits, which are snug-fitting bodysuits made of a tough poly-nylon/Kevlar compound that is being tested as a shield material for Dauntless clothing. It is supposed to be tough enough to deflect bullets, but it's never been tested in hand-to-hand combat. The Dauntless leaders are using the initiates as guinea pigs to determine its effectiveness.

On Harrison's signal, Nate and I move into the debris-strewn area of the ring. I hesitate for a split second to see what Nate will choose as a weapon. He moves toward a broken shard of rigid red plastic; it looks like it was once the cover of a traffic light. Well, if he's going to try to cut me, I am going to try to bruise him. I pick up a two-foot length of narrow copper pipe. We move in a slow circle around each other, looking for an opening, or waiting for the other to falter. Our boots crunch and shuffle as we move through the objects on the floor around us. Finally, Nate lunges. I duck, but I'm not fast enough. The makeshift blade in his hand grazes my shoulder, but the fabric of my combat suit holds. I swing back at him, hitting him squarely in the ribs. It's a solid hit, but I don't hit hard enough. Nate doesn't even flinch. He grabs me by my shoulder with his free hand and shoves me away, putting him out of my reach. I stumble, trying to keep my balance, and Nate attacks again. I throw my arm up in an attempt to block him, and his blade slices down across my forearm. There is a dull ripping sound, followed by a flash of pain. I grunt in surprise; the knife got through the fabric of my suit. I swing at him again, but this time he's ready for me. He grabs my wrist and twists, forcing me to lose my grip on the pipe. It clatters to the concrete floor. With my free hand I make a fist and swing at his face. I get lucky and hit him in his right temple. He roars, and I see rage and pain in his eyes.

He felt that one, I think triumphantly, but it's short lived. Nate tosses away the broken plastic shard and grabs my other wrist. He spreads his arms, and thus my own, rendering me helpless. It dawns on me that I could knee him in the groin, but before I can act on this, I see his forehead rushing toward mine.

I wake up with a throbbing head, lying on the cold concrete floor of the training room. Four is kneeling over me, saying something over and over. He peers closely at me when I open my eyes.

"You okay, Amity?" He asks.

"Rain," I try to correct him, but my voice comes out a weak wheeze.

"What was that?" He leans closer. His eyes are the color of the western horizon at dusk on a clear summer night.

"Rain," I repeat, louder this time. "My name is Rain."

A smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "Okay, Rain. You're done for the day, but we're keeping you with us for observation. Gotta make sure you don't have a concussion. That was a hell of a head-butt you took out there. Good thinking, hitting Nate in the temple; but next time go for the eye. If he can't see you, he'll have more trouble hitting you. And hit harder with your weapon if you're going to choose a bludgeoning instrument. The idea is to break your opponent's bones, not pat him like a pet rabbit."  
I stare at him in silence for a moment, then I simply nod. It's good advice, but does he have to be so brutal in his wording? Four is one unsettling guy.

I haven't felt like passing out or throwing up by the end of the lesson, so after a brief examination by Harrison, I am cleared to hit the showers and head to dinner. I may not have a concussion, but my head is still throbbing. A shower will be nice, but I don't think I'll be able to eat much.

I follow the other initiates out of the training room and down the hall. Nate glances back at one point, and drops back to wait for me.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks. I turn my face fully toward him so he can see the lump above my left eyebrow. I say nothing; just glare at him.

"Look, I really am sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, but… it's training, and I have to do well if I want to be in the top ten." His forehead creases slightly as he speaks, the corners of his mouth turning down. I am convinced that he means what he says, so I force a smile.

"Well, I suppose I should start fighting like I mean it, then, because I want to be in the top ten, too," I reply. He grins back at me and gives me a thumbs-up. Ahead of us, Leah calls back to him impatiently.

"Put some ice on that bump, Rain. See you after dinner!" Nate advises over his shoulder as he runs ahead to catch up with Leah and Spencer. I drag my heels and fall farther behind. Rather than heading right to the showers, I stop by the infirmary and get an ice pack for my head. They ask a few routine questions, again making sure that I don't have a concussion, and send me on my way with my ice pack. I head back to the dorms and sit on my bed with the ice pressed to my eyebrow until I feel moisture collecting around my fingers. The ice has begun to melt, so I take it into the shower room to dump it down the drain. My head still hurts, but not as much. I peel off the combat suit and take a shower. The hot water and the act of getting clean make me feel loads better. After I towel off, I realize that I haven't brought a clean set of clothes with me. As I slip back into the combat suit, my thumb catches in the tear that Nate made across my forearm. I examine the frayed fabric and the minor cut beneath it. The suit actually did a good job of protecting me. I figure the cut will heal in a few days; it hardly hurts at all. Not compared to my head, at least.

I head back down the hall toward the dormitories, intent on changing into clean clothes before going to the Pit floor for something light for dinner, like soup. As I pass the intersection of the hall that leads to the training rooms, a movement at the end catches my eye. A lone figure is walking slowly down the hall away from me. I know instantly by the long brown ponytail and the scales tattooed on his arm that it's Dante. I abandon the idea of the clean clothes and the soup and follow him.

He walks slowly past the training rooms, almost as though he's just wandering with no real destination in mind. He passes the main entrance to the Pit and heads down a side corridor that leads to the Chasm. As I come around the last bend, I find him leaning on the railing, staring down into the churning water below. This is the first chance I have ever had to talk to him alone, and I decide to take it. I walk slowly up beside him, and lean on the railing several feet away. I don't look at him, even though I know he's aware of my presence by now.

"Hi," I say. There is a pause.

"Hi." His reply is flat, but his deep voice echoes off the stone walls, filling the air around us for a moment. I glance over at him, but he doesn't look up. I notice that he has a purplish bruise on his cheek, and the corner of his mouth is torn.

"Did you get in a fight?" I ask, suddenly feeling very awkward, and completely at a loss as to how to begin talking to him.

He shakes his head, then his eyes slide over to me.

"Training," he corrects. His eyes come to rest on a spot above my left eye. "You?" He nods, indicating the red lump.

"Yes," I say; then another awkward silence.

"Did you follow me here?" He asks bluntly.

"Yes," I see no point in lying.

"Why? To thank me for saving you? Or to ask why I did it?" He sounds annoyed. It's not hard to guess that he's been taking a lot of crap for his actions. I take a deep, steadying breath.

"A little of both, and neither," I say. I am surprised by how matter-of-fact I sound. Must be the acoustics of the Chasm. "In fact, I don't even really need to know why you did it. The point is, you did it, and here I am."

"Yes, indeed. Here you are," his tone sounds mocking. He straightens up, and turns toward me. Oh, wow, is he ever tall. Taller than Four; taller than Nate. He takes a step toward me. "An Amity transfer in Dauntless."

I feel my pulse quicken, and my ears are getting hot. I am glad that the area where we're standing in dimly lit. I feel my body instinctively try to retreat, but I manage to stop myself from taking that backwards step. I stand my ground and raise my head to meet his eyes. Brown eyes that are somehow exactly the color of fire. Fire; the symbol of the Dauntless.

I am Dauntless. I am not afraid of fire.

Dante takes another step toward me; then another, and another. He stops when he is less than two feet in front of me, looking down at me.

"So thank me and go away. I don't like being followed around," he says, dropping his voice. "Especially by huggy-kissy Amity girls."

I set my jaw and narrow my eyes. I wish people would stop calling me that.

"I left for a reason, you know," I tell him.

"Why? Because you didn't want to spend your life plucking banjos and picking apples?"

"Are you always this nice to people who try to get friendly with you?" Now he's making me angry.

"Oh, is that what this is?" He smirks, voice dripping with sarcasm. "An Amity get-to-know-your-neighbor call?"

I punch him, right in the eye. The look on his face is absolutely classic, but I am too angry to care.

"The hell with you, Dante. You're a jerk. You know, it's not exactly easy to be Amity. They work damn hard and provide the city with something that's just as essential as what Dauntless does. And I left them, period; end of story. Why doesn't matter. I'm Dauntless now, so deal with it!" I am screaming at him, more angry than I can ever remember being about anything in my life. I take a second swing, but he is ready this time and blocks it. His hand grips my forearm, right over the tear from the fight with Nate. His fingers slide across it, and suddenly his expression changes. He shifts his grip, and drops his eyes to the frayed fabric. I take advantage of his momentary distraction and try to pull away, but he grips my arm firmly, drawing it closer.

"Stop… stop!" He commands, but his voice has changed. It's not as low, but it's still serious. I ignore him, and keep trying to pull away.

"Stop, Rain, please!" He places his free hand on my shoulder, trying to steady me.

He said my name. He said "please".

I stop struggling.

He stares at the rip in the fabric of my suit.

"This is one of the new suits, isn't it?" he asks. His voice is much softer, and he sounds somehow awed, like a child who has just discovered the star formation of the seeds in an apple core for the first time.

"Yes," I reply tersely. I am not struggling, but I am not relaxing either.

"Come over here in the light," his voice is almost gentle now, and he leads me by the arm over to the lighted area near the railing.

"What did they use to make this?" he asks, his voice almost gentle now. He releases my shoulder and glides his fingers along the rip, examining it closely.

"A sharp edge of a piece of hard plastic. I think it was part of a traffic light," I tell him. I have no idea why this little rip could be so fascinating. "Nate tried to stab me with it, but I blocked him with my arm and it tore the fabric. Didn't do much damage to my skin, though."

"Let me see," he replies. Hesitantly, I roll up my sleeve so he can see the cut on my arm. He runs his thumb over it gently, and I feel like sparks are shooting into my skin. I shudder slightly. Dante must feel it too, because he abruptly lets go of my arm. "Sorry," he mumbles as he straightens back up.

"It's okay," I say. "It didn't hurt when you touched it."

"No, I'm sorry for acting the way I did earlier. I don't know why I get like that," he drops his gaze and shakes his head. "I mean, I guess maybe I do. I just… I've never spent much time around girls. In my family, we're all boys. I don't know how they expect me to act around them, so I always end up just pushing them away."

"Well," I say slowly, "you could try just acting like yourself."

"What do you mean?" He looks at me sideways.

"I mean, like you did just now. You became someone completely different when you saw the rip in my suit. Whoever he was, I'm willing to bet he's a lot more like the real Dante than that rude guy who calls me 'Amity' all the time."

He looks at me, his mouth in a firm line. Did I say too much?

"But I have no idea what girls want to be treated like. They just seem so… different from guys."  
"You're right, we are different," I tell him. "But we are still people, and this girl, for one, likes to be treated like a person. So start from there."

I see a light come on in his eyes at that moment. He raises his eyebrows, and his lips part just a little. He stares at me like that for a heartbeat, and then a smile spreads across his face. Unlike the mocking smirk he gave me earlier, this one is genuine.

"Treat you like a person," he repeats, then heaves a deep sigh. His entire body seems to relax. " Yeah, that's a start, I guess."

I drop my guard just a little. I don't say anything; I just glare at him, waiting for his next remark.  
"What?" He asks. "You have a good point. I can't argue with it. Well, I mean, I could, but it would be a weak argument."  
I hesitate a moment. We just stand there looking at each other in the dim light beside the chasm.

"I don't know if you're being serious right now, or just sarcastic," I tell him honestly.

"I'm being serious." He shrugs. "You have a point, and it's one I've never let myself consider before. It's also one that no one has ever brought up with me before. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the most popular player on this team."

"I'd say that's your own fault," I snap.

"Right again," he says, his voice softening. "Okay, so maybe it's not just girls I have a problem with. It's just... new people in general. My family calls me 'wary'. They say it's a good Dauntless trait, but I don't know if it's good all the time. Or in large doses." He jabs a thumb against his chest as he says this.

"Well, the nice thing about new people is that the more you talk to them and get to know them, the less new they become. And the less new they are, the better you know them, and the less wary you have to be toward them." It's almost exhausting, having a conversation with Dante.

"I realize that," he replies.

"Then give it a try," I retort.

He studies my face for a moment. I can almost see him weighing the options in his mind. There's something in his look that is somehow haunting, almost hungry.

"Fine," he says eventually, "I'll try."

"Good," I reply. "Good enough."

He takes a deep breath and glances back toward the Pit.

"Well, person-girl, have you eaten yet? Because I'm starving." he asks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black cargo pants.

"I haven't," I admit. The bump on my head made me queasy, but suddenly I find myself feeling much, much better. "But I could go for a hamburger right about now."

"Then let's hope those other food vacuums in the Pit haven't eaten them all."

"Yeah, let's hope. Lead the way."

I can't help myself; I smile as I follow Dante away from the Chasm and back toward the Pit.


	6. Chapter 6

The Pit floor is all but deserted by the time we arrive. There's less than an hour left before curfew for us, so we have to rush our meal. Fortunately, there are still hamburgers available when we arrive. We each grab one; I slather a marbling of ketchup and mustard on mine and set the bun aside. I notice that Dante likes pickles and onions on his.

"You don't like the bun?" He asks.

"The glutens in the bread don't agree with me," I explain.

"Good reason to leave Amity," he says, then quickly, before I can reply: "I'm kidding, Rain."

I catch him glancing at the rip in my sleeve again.

"What's so interesting about this?" I ask, putting down my burger to run my finger along the damaged fabric.

Dante finishes chewing a bite, swallows, and clears his throat. "My oldest brother, Dale, works in a defensive weapons lab. He helped create the material they make the combat suits out of. I got to hear a lot about the process that they went through to develop it into something practical, something that could be used as body armor but still meet the standards for Dauntless uniforms."

"Standards?" I ask. I never really thought about it before, but I guess it makes sense that there would be some pretty important qualifications for Dauntless uniform materials, seeing as they- we- are exposed to some very dangerous situations, and put our lives on the line every day. We need to wear protective clothing.

"Yeah," Dante continues; "it has to be flexible enough to allow total freedom of movement, but strong enough to withstand weapon assault. This one," he points at my suit, "is going to end up on the chopping block if it can't even fend off a slash from a plastic knife. I expect we'll all be getting new suits before initiation is over, or not long after."

"What would they have to do to improve the defensive capabilities of the material?" I ask.

Dante takes another bite, staring into space as he chews. I can practically see the gears turning in his head. "They're gonna have to put the Kevlar layer between two layers of the poly-nylon material. And they are going to have to add something to give the outer layer more rigidity. This material," he gestures to my suit, "is flexible enough, so it'll be fine as the inner layer. But they'll have to find something to use on the surface layer…" his voice trails off and he stares at me for a moment.

"What is it?" I ask, starting to feel self-conscious.

"Sorry," he lowers his eyes. "Am I talking too much?"

"Not at all," I assure him. "I asked you a question and you answered."

"This isn't boring to you?"

"If I thought it was boring, I wouldn't have asked you about it in the first place," I pause. "You really seem to know what you're talking about when it comes to this stuff. Have you ever thought about working with your brother? I mean, you know, after initiation."

"I thought about it," he nods, "but I don't want to design defensive weaponry all my life. I'm pretty sure I'd get bored with it, or frustrated."

"Why on Earth would you think that?" I ask. "You have an engineering mind, from the sound of things."

"You make it sound like I should be in Erudite," he sets his jaw. I think I may have set him off somehow.

"I think you belong where you choose to belong," I say carefully. He just shakes his head and goes back to his burger. We eat the rest of our meal in silence.

When we are finished, we have only ten minutes to get back to our dorms before curfew. The halls to our respective dorms are at opposite ends of the Pit. We linger for a few moments before we have to leave, and I suddenly become very aware of Dante's presence. It's as though I can feel his body heat radiating from his pores. Standing near him reminds me of the feeling in the air right before a big storm out on the farms, when the electricity in the air makes your hair stand on end.

"Well," he says at last, "Thanks for… uh, everything, I guess. It was nice to have someone to talk to. Besides my brothers."

"Thanks for giving me a chance," I reply. I feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants, looking at the floor. I get the distinct feeling that he's still unhappy with something I said earlier. But he's trying to be nice, so I won't say anything.

"We should both be getting back," he glances over at me. Even though the lights in the Pit have dimmed significantly with the late hour, I can still see that spark in his eyes.

"Yes, probably," I agree. "Well, good night, Dante. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow," he says. Then he abruptly turns on his heel and strides away, and I watch him retreat for a moment. His ponytail swings slightly between his broad shoulders, ending a few inches above his narrow waist. His long legs are evident despite the baggy cargo pants he wears. His arms are bare below the sleeves of his t-shirt, and the dim overhead light accentuates the definition of his triceps.

When he reaches the edge of the pit, he glances back over his shoulder and fully catches me staring at him. I feel completely stupid, so I wave as I turn away. Just before he disappears from my peripheral vision, I see him wave back.

The next morning at breakfast, Dante seems to have returned to his usual withdrawn self. I have to remind myself that getting him to come out of his shell like he did with me for a few minutes last night was not easy for him, and I can't expect him to open up to everyone in the world right away. I do feel a little bit special that I was the one who experienced it. Just once, I catch his eye over our plates of omelets and fruit. His expression changes, warming almost unnoticeably, and he gives me a small nod. He then returns to his breakfast and I do the same. Not even Erica notices, but I'm dying to tell her what happened last night. If only I could get her alone.

Training after breakfast involves rifle and shotgun care. We learn how to dismantle them for cleaning and maintenance, then to reassemble and calibrate them for greatest accuracy. I am looking forward too eagerly to lunch, and I mess up several things that I should have been able to get right on the first try. I end up taking much longer than anyone else to complete all of my tasks.

When we are dismissed for lunch, Four calls to me to have a word with him before I leave. I know this is going to cost me my chance to talk to Erica, but even more upsetting is the fact that I'm getting lectured by Four. He is arranging parts of a disassembled rifle on a table when I approach him.

"Rain, I'm concerned about how you're looking in the rankings," he begins. I say nothing, but swallow hard. I have a feeling this is going to be very bad.

"I know you're capable of more," he continues. "I think the problem is that you need extra time for training in the things that you are good at, to boost your confidence, and that will put you in the right state of mind for the rest of the training. I saw something similar in one of the girls last year. I spent some extra time helping her in her weakest areas like this, and she started improving almost right away. She finished initiation in the top five."

"Are you… are you saying you want to train me like that?" I ask, astounded that someone like Four would single someone like me out.

"Me? No, I can't. It's not allowed because I'm an instructor now. But I can set up some extra training time with another one of the initiates," he replies. "Thing is, you can't let anyone know about it; either that I set it up, or that you're doing extra training. Agreed?"

"Agreed," I nod vigorously. I knew that the last two days hadn't been good ones for me, but I didn't know that they were so severely affecting my rankings. Then, out of curiosity, I ask: "Who are you going to get to do it?"

"I haven't decided yet, but I'll let you know when I do. Go ahead and go to lunch," his tone makes it clear that he's done discussing the matter.

I leave the training room. I reach the Pit at the height of the lunch rush, and I know that trying to get to the initiates' tables is going to take forever in this crowd and I'll never manage to get something to eat. Instead, I approach a mostly empty table that has trays of cheese and sliced meats in abundance. I grab a clean plate and pile a few slices of each onto it. I decide to eat as I walk back to the initiates' tables, but just as I am about to leave I hear a familiar name from one of the men sitting at the table from which I took the food.

"…Dante's idea. He thinks a woven mesh of titanium on the surface would do the trick."

I stop dead in my tracks and whip around. The three men at the table don't even notice me. I peer at the one who was speaking, and I am shocked that I didn't notice it the first time I looked at him. His hair is shorter, but he has the same strong cheekbones, same straight nose, and the same broad shoulders and lean frame as Dante. The only thing missing is the fiery brown eyes- his look like they are a grayish-hazel. This has got to be one of his brothers- probably Dale, whom he mentioned last night. I catch myself staring at him, then turn away quickly before he can catch me doing the same. As I retreat, I hear one of the others reply.

"That kid brother of ours has an amazing talent for this stuff. I guess that's what he does in his free time; coming up with stuff like that. How many times has he helped you out on these projects now? Three?" His voice sounds almost exactly like Dante's only rougher, scratchier.

"Five, I think," chimes in a third voice. "Don't forget his ideas for the…"

The voice disappears into the cacophony of sound that is the Pit at mealtime. I realize that I practically just stole my lunch from Dante's brothers. I must be smiling about it, because the first thing Erica says to me when I reach the initiates' tables is:

"Well, someone must be having a good day. What the hell happened to you last night? I was looking for you at dinner!"

There are too many people around to tell her what happened, plus Dante is sitting within earshot. I'm not going to say anything to Erica about that part of my night just yet.

"Let's just say that I didn't do so well in my match against Nate yesterday, and I ended up in the infirmary. Harrison and Four thought I might get a concussion from it. But don't worry, I didn't," I tell her. It's not exactly a lie. I glance at Dante. He's not looking at me, but he is giving the cheese sandwich in front of him a very tense stare. I can see that he's worried that I'll say something.

"I had an awful headache, though," I continued, loud enough for Dante to hear me, "so I went to bed." Again, not lying, but not telling the whole story.

"But you're okay now?" Erica asks, looking concerned.

"Of course I am," I smile, again reminded how nice it is to have a friend that worries about me. "But how about you? How is training going?"

We talk about how Eric's techniques differ from Harrison's, and how, subsequently, the Dauntless-born training regimens are becoming very different from the transfers'. There is some debate among us whether this is because of our factions of origin, or if Eric is just trying to instill a new regiment that will be adopted by all initiates in the future. He is in a position of greater influence than Harrison and Four, after all.

As expected, we don't have much time to visit. As we are leaving, Erica reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. It's folded into quarters and taped closed around the edges.

"Someone asked me to give this to you," she says as she hands it to me. I take it dumbly; who would send me a message through my best friend? I look up, and Dante has already left the room.

"Who?" I ask.

"Someone," Erica says, a smile spreading across her face. She winks at me, and turns and dashes away down the hall. The first thought in my head is: Dante gave her a note to pass on to me. He is still too shy to talk to me in public, but he knows that his neighbor, and now fellow initiate, is friendly with me. As soon as I leave the Pit, I tear it open and read it.

Chasm 9:00 tonight

It's handwritten, and that's all it says. I am convinced that it's Dante who sent it.

I have to focus much harder during the second half of training, which is rifle target practice, but Four's lecture has hit home and I realize how important it is for me to stay sharp at all times during training. I end up surprising myself and doing much better than I thought I could. Afterward, I rush through my shower, eager to get to dinner so I can ask Erica more about the note she gave me, but I am disappointed when I get to our usual table in the Pit and find her absent. I notice that Dante isn't around, either. Disappointed, I take a seat between Nate and Joseph and eat my dinner without really tasting it.

I have two hours to kill between dinner and my meeting with Dante at the Chasm, so I decide to get a tattoo. There are two artists on duty when I get to the parlor, and neither is busy. I browse the flash art on the walls for a few minutes and decide on a black image of the sun. The sun will always remind me of the Amity farms, but it also reminds me that every day it rises, and every day presents new chances and experiences. I get the tattoo on my left shoulder blade.

At nine o'clock sharp I walk down the hall from the Pit to the Chasm with a white square of gauze covering my new ink. As I come around the bend, I see a tall male silhouette in the dim light at the end of the railing, in the same spot where we stood last night. He has his back to me, his hands shoved in the pockets of his cargo pants. His posture looks more relaxed than usual.

"Hey," I call out as I approach. He turns around.

But it's not Dante; it's Four.


	7. Chapter 7

“Thanks for coming. Sorry is was such short notice,” Four greets me.

I don’t respond; I can’t. I was so sure that it was Dante, so sure he wanted to see me again. Something inside me deflates, and is immediately replaced with a swarm of insects that are raging to get out. My pulse speeds up, heart beating wildly. Why on Earth would Four send me a note through Erica, asking me to meet him here, an hour before curfew?

He takes a few steps towards me, stopping when he is within arm’s reach. He peers at my face, his eyebrows knit together over his intensely blue eyes. “Something wrong?” He asks. “I thought you wanted help.”

Oh, so that’s what this is all about. I am relieved, but still disappointed at the same time. I do want help, but I also want to talk to Dante again. I weigh the two desires in my mind. The scales tip even. I take a deep breath.

“I do,” I breathe out. “It’s just… I didn’t expect it to happen so fast.”

“Well, initiation doesn’t last forever. You don’t have long before the end of the first half, and right now you’re ranking is not looking good. At all. You really don’t have any time to waste,” he explains.

I swallow hard. I knew I wasn’t doing well, but I figured I had to be doing better than some of the others. Four, however, makes it sound like I am near the bottom of the rankings. I guess I really have to start working much harder than I have been, and right away.

He leads me away from the Chasm and across the Pit. We are not heading toward the training rooms that we’ve been using for the last five days; we are going down the hallway past the Dauntless-born dorms, toward their training rooms.

“You got a Dauntless-born initiate to help me train?” I think I’ve already figured it out, but I want confirmation from Four. He nods as we walk.

“How did you get one of them to do it?” I still can’t believe it.

“I asked a few of them. One volunteered,” he tells me. And that’s when it dawns on me: he gave Erica the note to pass to me because she was the one who volunteered to help with my training. I smile a little when I think about how Erica has been looking out for me and sticking up for me since we met; and now this. She is undeniably the best friend I have ever had.

We reach the door to the Dauntless-born training rooms; identical in every way to ours at the other end of the compound. Four pushes through them and into the dark cavern. He instructs me to wait while he turns on a light. A single fixture brightens, illuminating the fighting ring in the middle of the room. The ring is empty.

“I will be watching and instructing the two of you for the first few nights only. That’s to make sure that I think your training regimen is heading in the right direction, and to make sure you’re not breaking curfew. Any more than that would be too much of a risk, for you two and for me,” Four informs me. “We’re going to start simple. Tonight, I want you doing sprints for ten minutes; then sparring for ten minutes. You proved today that you handle a weapon competently when you’re taking this seriously, but your hand-to-hand combat needs… improvement.”

“Okay, well, the clock’s ticking. Is she usually late for stuff?” I am eager to get moving on this.

“She?” asks Four; he sounds amused. Then I see a movement in the darkness to one side of the ring; a shadow that’s a deeper darkness than that around it. Someone is walking toward the ring, someone much too tall to be Erica. I watch like I’m in a dream. I feel like this isn’t really happening. Step by step, my training partner enters the circle of light in the ring. It’s Dante.

“You?” I whisper, awestruck. Of all the Dauntless-born initiates that Four asked, it was Dante who volunteered to help me?

The light shines straight down on him, highlighting the deep brown color of his hair with a silver gleam. His eyes are hidden in the shadow beneath his brow and the hollows beneath his cheekbones become dark pits. He wears a black tank top and black pants that appear to be made of the same material as our combat suits, form fitting and flexible. Between the light and his clothing, every muscle is accentuated. He is built the way I always pictured the ideal Dauntless soldier: no extra bulk, no soft spots; nothing in excess. He is muscular but lean, strong but not bulky; build for agility, speed, and stamina.

I walk toward the ring, toward the light; toward Dante, my new training partner. Slowly I step into the ring and face him. He is much, much taller than me- I have to look up to make eye contact with him. When he meets my gaze with his eyes, his face is lost in the shadows. I can’t make out a single feature. But mine- mine is bathed in light because I am looking up. I can’t hide my expression in the shadows like he can.

Four turns on the lights only at the far end of the room. He’s not taking any chances, lighting only the areas farthest from the door and draping his jacket over its window. He instructs us to run from the ring to the edge of the lighted area, then turn and run back again. We are allowed to stop and catch our breath for thirty seconds when we reach the ring again; then do another rep. We keep that up for ten minutes. This is designed to increase agility and provide a cardio workout. I knew that I was a good runner before, but Dante, I learn, is almost as fast, and much more agile. He shifts his momentum much more quickly when we reach the far end of our course and is able to turn much faster. He is ahead of me as we start our return sprint, even though I was in the lead on the way out. He beats me to the finish every time.

Next up is sparring. Four orders me to attack Dante while he defends, and of course he easily deflects each strike. After my third attack, which he brushes aside like it’s nothing, he changes position and stands beside me.

“Watch me,” he instructs. He takes an attack stance, focuses on the air in front of us, and attacks. His is swift and fierce and powerful. He straightens and returns to my side. “Now stand how I stand, and do what I do.”

He returns to his attack stance, and I mimic him as best I can. He shakes his head, and moves behind me.

“Balance your weight like this,” he places his hands on my hips and shifts me forward. “Keep your right shoulder back, squared with your left shoulder,” he brings one hand up to my shoulder to shift its position. “This presents your body’s narrowest angle to your opponent, giving them less of a target. It also sets your balance up for forward or backward momentum, depending on who moves first. Now,” he steps in front of me, “throw a punch the way Four showed you.”

I do as he says, and I feel more power behind my attack this time. But Dante again deflects it easily. He wraps his fingers around my fist for a moment, studying me. I feel prickles creeping along my hand and up my wrist from the places his fingers are touching my skin.

“You don’t have as much upper body strength as the bigger initiates,” he observes, “so here’s what you need to do. Don’t stop your punch when it makes contact, or at the point where you see that it will make contact. Aim for a point about six inches behind your target. Now attack me again.”

I reset myself, standing the way he told me while he takes a position across from me. He turns to face me, and I glimpse his eyes as he drops into a defensive crouch. It’s as though I feel their fire burning into mine, and I lunge forward, aiming for his forearm but striking toward his shoulder behind it. I feel my fist make contact…and his arm gives way to my blow. He steps back then straightens slowly. I glance over at Four, still holding my stance. He has his chin resting on one hand, watching me intently. He nods, and steps back into the shadows.

By the end of the session, my knuckles and forearms are bruised and aching, but I feel like I’ve accomplished something. I follow Four and Dante quietly out of the training room after we’ve turned off the lights. Four reminds us of the time, and that we don’t have much left before curfew. We can’t risk being seen together, so he leaves first, heading back toward the Pit. We wait a few minutes as our eyes adjust to the darkness. 

We are alone again, but it’s almost like we’ve started over. Dante is withdrawn and silent. I know I’ll have to be the one to speak first.

“Thank you,” I say, feeling awkward all over again, “for going along with this. For volunteering to help me.” For a few moments he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the ground with his arms crossed, leaning against the training room door.

“You’re welcome,” he says, his voice so low I barely hear it. Then he straightens. “You can go ahead now. It’ll take you longer to get back to your dorm than it will for me.”

“You’re right. Well,” I pause, feeling the awkwardness inside me growing, just as it did last night when we parted ways, “thanks again. Good night.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

The next several days blur together. I train with the transfer initiates all day, then do the power sessions with Dante and Four at night. At first it’s the three of us, with Four guiding our training program and observing our progress. On the fifth night, it’s just Dante and I. We go through the exercises as Four laid them out for us, but neither of us speaks. In fact, we haven’t had a conversation like that first one since we started with the training sessions.

I realize this at the end of the fifth night, as we are leaving the training room. Dante has barely spoken a word to me tonight, and when he has it’s only to instruct me. And outside of training, he doesn’t even acknowledge me at all anymore. I am beginning to wonder if he is getting bored with this; if maybe he is having second thoughts. I look back at him after he closes the door to the training room. He’s staring at the floor again, pointedly not making eye contact with me. I start to feel anger boiling up in my chest. I clench my teeth, glaring at him for a moment, then I turn on my heel and stomp away. If he doesn’t want to train with me, he should just say so. I’m sure Four could get Erica to help instead.

I lie awake for a long time that night. Dante has become the single most frustrating aspect of my life. He says he’ll try to treat me like a person, then he shuts down completely. He volunteers to help me train, then gives me no encouragement or feedback. I wonder if it’s worth going back to train with him the next night. As much as he intimidates me, I liked it better when Four was there. At least Four spoke to me, told me when I did something right. Dante doesn’t even do that; it’s like he’s just going through the motions so he can get it over with.

In regular training the next day, I am pitted against Nate again for sparring. I am distracted by how frustrated I am by Dante, but Harrison is watching this fight and I know it will affect my rankings. I watch Nate’s movements closely, but he still gets the first hit on me; a glancing blow to the temple. My vision blurs, turning red around the edges. I drop into a defensive crouch, waiting for his next attack. Nate’s face comes into focus, and for a split second his eyes burn into mine. Somehow my mind superimposes Dante’s face over Nate’s. I shift into attack, aiming for the back of his skull. I land two solid blows: a fist to his eye and an elbow to his solar plexus. He goes down with a groan, and I am over him in a heartbeat. I can’t give him the chance to get back on his feet. I close the distance between us, giving him no room to swing. I bring my right fist back, and then slam my knuckles sharply into his jaw. Suddenly he’s Nate again; his eyes lose focus and his limbs go limp. I stand up. Nate is out cold and I’ve won the match. I turn back to face Harrison. He and Four are side by side, and they exchange a surprised glance as I leave the ring. I just beat the strongest guy in our group, after losing to him badly just a few days ago.

At dinner later, sitting between Spencer and Joseph, I decide I don’t want to train with Dante that night. I beat Nate, so I’ve proven myself for the day. I leave the Pit while the dinner crowd is still in full force, hoping that neither Dante nor Four will catch me slipping back to the dorms. 

I have every intention of hitting the showers and going to bed, but instead I find myself drawn to the Chasm. I make a detour and find myself at the railing, all alone. I stare down into the darkness of the churning waters, losing myself in my thoughts. I am getting better; I must be, otherwise there was no way I could have beaten Nate so quickly. I tell myself that I don’t need the extra training anymore, and that I don’t care what Dante will think when I don’t show up tonight.

People come and go along the Chasm as I stand there, but no one I know. No one speaks to me. I stand there leaning on the railing for what must be a very long time. When I look up again, only two lights are still on and the whole area is silent. It must be near curfew. I start walking back toward the dorms, but as I am rounding the bend leading away from the Chasm, I collide with a body that’s hurrying in the opposite direction. I mumble an apology, but suddenly I find my wrists being squeezed by a pair of very strong hands. Suddenly frightened, I look up…

…into Dante’s fiery glare.

“What are you doing here?” he growls.

“Going to bed,” I reply tersely. I try to wrench my wrists from his grasp, but he is too strong. “Stop, Dante. You’re hurting me!” He just squeezes harder.

“I’m hurting you? I am hurting you? Oh, that’s a good one. How do you think I felt when you didn’t show up for training tonight? How do you think I felt after waiting for you for an hour, then asking Erica if she’d seen you, and she told me that you’d left the Pit halfway through dinner? And then when someone else told me they’d seen you staring into the Chasm for an hour?”

“What are you saying?” I ask him, not understanding.

“I’m saying that I was afraid you had…” he trails off, releasing one of my wrists, and gesturing back towards the Chasm.

“That I’d…what? Jumped?” I glare at him. “Do you think I’m stupid? Why the hell would I jump? I was just avoiding you.”

He releases my other wrist, frowning. “Avoiding me? Why?”

“Because you’ve done nothing but give me the cold shoulder since we started training together, Dante! You said you’d treat me like a normal person, but you went right back on that, didn’t you? You decided that you didn’t like training with me, so you’ve just been going through the motions until it’s over. Why did you even volunteer in the first place?!” I am shouting at him, and I can feel hot tears of rage burning in my eyes. I blink them back, glaring into his.

He stares back at me, looking completely dumbfounded.

“Is that really what you think is going on here?” He asks, his voice so quiet that I can barely hear him.

“Yes, it is! You haven’t even spoken to me normally since that first time. You don’t even try to talk to me at all anymore. Well, if that’s how you want it, fine! Consider yourself relieved of your duty as my training partner. I’m much better now, so I probably don’t even need you anymore!” I have never, ever spoken so harshly to anyone in my life. In Amity, arguing was strictly forbidden. I thought it would make me feel better to get this all out and tell Dante what I think of his actions, but I don’t. I feel worse.

“Well, if that’s what you want, I’ll respect that,” Dante says quietly. “But on two conditions. First: you have to tell Four that you aren’t training with me anymore; and second, you have to come with me to the training room… right now. It will just take a few minutes, then you’ll be free to go.”

“Why do you want me to go to the training room with you?” I ask apprehensively.

“Because I brought you something tonight. I left it there, and I want you to see it,” he replies. I glare at him silently. “Please,” he says. That is when I realize that he’s been looking me in the eye for the entire conversation instead of staring at the floor like usual.

“Fine,” I say, then glance back over my shoulder. “Don’t worry about the Chasm. I’d never be tempted to jump off it, no matter how bad things got.”

“Okay,” he says softly. “Come on.”

I follow him to the training room. All the lights are off when we arrive. He instructs me to wait by the door, then turns on the single fixture above the fighting ring. In its center is a book with a worn- looking, brown cover. I walk over slowly, then pick up the book and glance back at Dante. 

“Open it,” his voice is little more than a whisper, his eyes burning bright in the dim light.

I open the cover and turn to the first page. It is written in a familiar hand.

-Chasm 9:00 tonight- I remember the note I got a few nights ago. This is the same handwriting. That’s when I figure out that I’m holding Dante’s journal. I raise my eyes quickly and close the book with a snap.

“Dante!” I gasp. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Because,” he takes a few steps toward me, “there are some things I want you to know about me. Things that I wanted to tell you every day since that first night that you found me by the Chasm, but I have no idea where to begin. That’s why I haven’t been so talkative lately. I was just…looking for the right words, but they never came. So I figured I’d let you read them. I’ve always been better at writing than talking, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” I whisper. In the open chamber of the deserted training room, a whisper can be almost as loud as a shout.

He reaches the ring and takes a seat on its edge. He gestures for me to sit beside him; I do. “I’m sure. But I think you should start here…” he takes the book from me, flips to a page near the back, and returns it to me.

“The Choosing Ceremony was today. I stayed in Dauntless despite my aptitude test result. Or maybe because of it. But I am glad that I did. The faction has some new transfers- one I saved from falling off of the roof above Headquarters. Everyone freaked when I did it, like I knew they would. But she is worth saving, I know it. Dauntless doesn’t get many Amity transfers, but the way she walked to the dais and made her choice- without any hesitation at all- you’d think she was born here. Sure got my attention. Her name is Rain.”

I hesitate before turning the page. My heart is pounding and my ears are ringing.

“Keep going,” Dante encourages me. He leans in close to read with me. A few strands of his long hair have freed themselves from his trademark ponytail, and they sweep across my bare shoulder. The sensation sends that familiar electric surge through my skin. I shift back to get more comfortable, and our shoulders touch. He leans into me a little more. I feel the heat in my ears, and am glad he’s looking at the book instead of my face. I compose myself as best I can, and continue reading.

“Everywhere I go I see her, that brilliant red braid against the black of the combat suits that I helped Dale design. Erica is always talking about how nice she is, and how full of life. I see it, every time I see her face. It’s like she finds joy in living every moment of her life. I wish I could be more like her. I wish I had that kind of strength.”

I swallow hard. Strength? Dante, the statuesque, perfect image of Dauntless, wishes he had my strength?

I keep reading…

“I had a chance tonight and I almost blew it. I had dinner with Rain. Some things about her remind me of Jessie. Things like that sometimes still hurt. Rain said something that Jessie used to say all the time, about belonging where we choose to belong. I kind of shut down after that. I didn’t mean to, but dwelling on Jessie isn’t going to help me move forward.”

Well, that explains a few things. Next page:

“Four was asking for someone to help him with a training program today. He said that a potentially brilliant transfer wasn’t responding well to Harrison’s training techniques, and needed a more intense, focused power session on a regular basis to sharpen her. On the chance that it might be Rain, I volunteered. It wasn’t until after I’d said yes that Four told me that it was, in fact, her. The first session was really good, and I think this will help her a lot. I’m happy that I get to be the one to help her; she deserves it. And it means I have a reason to spend a lot of time with her. I think I can safely admit that I feel something for her, something that’s more than the friendship I shared with Jessie. The problem is, I have no idea how to tell her…”

I close the book. I stare straight ahead, my heart pounding. I feel horrible for thinking what I thought, for treating Dante the way I did. I should have remembered what Erica told me, about how shy he’s always been; about the losses he’s endured. Maybe I would have understood him better if I’d just tried.

“Dante, I’m… so sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t… I had no idea…” my voice cracks. I am on the verge of tears again, but this time not tears of anger.

“Don’t apologize,” he shakes his head, and more strands of his hair fall across my shoulder. I hand the journal back to him almost reverently, then slowly bring my eyes up to meet his. “I would have thought the same thing about me, if I was you.”

I don’t say anything. He cups my face in his hands. I close my eyes and lean into his kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

When I was three, we raised a flock of chickens on our farm. I remember watching the chicks hatch in the giant incubator that my father and some of our neighbors had built together. I was allowed to hold the chicks in my lap a few times when they still had their baby down. I remember how their tiny feet tickled my hands and legs as they walked on me, and how soft their downy bodies were. I thought I’d never like any sensation more than their softness in my hands.

But Dante has changed that, changed it with many new sensations: the loose strands of his long hair brushing my bare shoulder as he sat beside me; the static feel of his skin touching mine; the way my heart jumps every time I look into his fire-colored eyes. And his lips against mine are softer than anything else in the world. 

And now I find myself as much at a loss for words as Dante. We sit side by side on the edge of the sparring ring, leaning into each other. The only sound is our breathing, and the pounding of my pulse in my ears. Dante has one arm draped across my back, his fingers resting on my hip. I hold his other hand between both of mine. The corner of his mouth brushes my temple as he rests his head against mine. Neither of us speaks for a long time. It’s like we’re both afraid to break the spell.

“I hate to say this,” I whisper finally, “but it’s got to be close to curfew. We should go.”

“I know,” Dante replies. “But… I wish we didn’t.” He slides his arm almost reluctantly from my back and I release his hand. He reaches for the journal in his lap and rises to his feet. “I also wish I could have told you those things myself, but I’m really no good at talking about myself. I have almost zero practice in that.

“There’s more that I want to tell you, too. There are some things in what you read that I’m sure didn’t make any sense to you. I want to explain…” he trails off as I rise, and reach up to brush my fingertips across his cheek.

“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I actually feel privileged; that you let me read what you wrote about me. That’s very brave. Even more than saying it out loud, I think. Because when you wrote that, I doubt that you did it with the intention of letting me read it. That takes guts.”

He leans down and kisses me again; softly, slowly. I close my eyes. I feel like I’m floating. When he pulls away, I’m breathless.

“I hope this means that you’re not otherwise attached,” he murmurs. I shake my head. “Good.” His voice drops to a barely-audible whisper for that single word.

When we leave the training room, we both hesitate. Dante glances around, then takes both of my hands in his.

“Listen, Rain,” he whispers, “we have to keep this under wraps for now… for several reasons. Leadership frowns on initiates dating. It distracts us from our training, and it can affect our ranking. Plus, if one initiate doesn’t make the cut, it increases the chances of his or her partner dropping out of the faction. And most importantly, if Four finds out, he’ll put a stop to our training sessions… which, I now take it, you’d like to continue.”

I don’t even have to think about it. “Of course I do. And yeah, I understand. We’ll just have to go on acting like we’re nothing more than acquaintances until… until…”

“Until after initiation,” Dante brushes a stray lock out of my face. “And I know you’ll make the cut. You’ve got Four and me both behind you. We believe in you. Just believe in yourself and I’m sure you can do it.”

I smile up at him. When he says it, I can believe it.

“Well, goodnight, Dante. And thank you,” I whisper. He places a gentle kiss on my forehead as he releases my hands.

“Goodnight, Rain. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” 

We turn away from the door simultaneously and head toward our respective dorms. Everyone is still awake when I arrive, sitting on the edges of their bunks and chattering away. Leah spots me first as I enter the room. She is sitting in a group with Nicole, who transferred from Candor with Nate; and Amos, who is the only transfer from Abnegation this year. 

“Well, you sure look chipper, considering the late hour. Why are you always the last one to get back from dinner?” She asks. The others turn to face me. I feel my ears starting to burn. It’s silly, I know, but I feel like they just caught me doing something I wasn’t supposed to.

“I’ve been doing some extra workouts. Just basic fitness stuff. I got permission from Four. He says it helps boost my confidence to practice things I’m already good at. So mostly I just run laps,” I tell them. Not entirely a lie. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Just gossiping, really,” Nicole says flippantly. “Some of us don’t think it’s fair that we are being ranked against the Dauntless-born when we have to train separately. I mean, they’ve had all their lives to prepare for this. We’ve had less than two weeks, and in two more weeks, some of us are getting cut. We just don’t think it’s fair, because if we are training at the same level, then they’ll all be better than us.”

“Well, I can tell you for a fact that we’re not being trained on the same level. The Dauntless-born are trained on a whole different level, in a whole different way,” I tell them, then immediately regret it. I have said way, way too much. Leah catches it.

“How do you know what their training is like?” Leah asks, peering suspiciously at me.

“I…uh… I was talking to Four. He told me,” I fumble with my weak answer.

“Funny,” Leah says slowly, “seems like you sure are spending a lot of time with Four lately. Is that where you’ve really been every night? With Four, trying to sweeten him up to better your rankings? Are you that desperate, Rain?”

I feel anger boiling in my chest, but I suppress it quickly. I force a laugh.

“I don’t think Four could be sweet-talked by anyone, least of all me. Nope, I asked him about it when Nate nearly gave me a concussion the other day. He said that Eric is trying out new, unconventional training techniques on them, that’s all,” I try to sound casual.

“Uh huh, sure, whatever,” Leah gives me a look; then turns her back on me. I roll my eyes, and act like it’s no big deal. But I know I’d better watch my mouth from here on out. The last thing that Four, or Dante, or I myself, needs is for me to slip up and give away something. “It’s lights out, anyway.” I slip into my bed, and as soon as darkness engulfs me, I drift back to the time I spent sitting next to Dante in the sparring ring tonight.

The closest thing I’ve ever had to a boyfriend before was Ben, who used to leave me bouquets of wildflowers before the Choosing ceremony- completely unrequited on my end. Briefly, I wonder how he’s doing in his new faction before my thoughts flit back to Dante. I know I can’t call him a boyfriend right now, but it’s nice to know I have someone waiting for me once initiation is over: someone who represents the possibility of having a boyfriend. I drift off to sleep, and if I dream, I don’t remember when I wake up.

Days pass in a series of training routines, showers, meals, and sleep. I have time for little else. But it’s worth it; I am getting better at the things I was once really terrible at, and I am doing much better in armed and hand-to-hand combat. I’m nowhere near being the best, but I’m definitely no longer one of the worst. Each time a match ends with a win or in a draw for me during regular training, I see Four’s nod of approval. This is good, because it means the training sessions with Dante are working.

And they still are training sessions… mostly. We try to stay focused on the real reason that we’re both there, but we do steal a goodnight kiss right after we turn out the lights in the Dauntless-born training room every night. We won’t risk any more than that.

At the end of the first two weeks, our first rankings are announced. We know that ultimately only ten initiates will be allowed to join Dauntless, and that three initiates are being cut today. Everyone gathers in our training room for the announcement, including the Dauntless-born initiates. The announcement is made after dinner, so this is the first respite that Dante and I have taken from the training routines. I walk casually through the room, making it appear that I choose my place to stand for the announcement at random, but I deliberately come to a stop beside Dante. We don’t look at each other. But as the crowd starts pressing in when Eric enters carrying the chalkboard- turned backwards so we can’t see what’s written on it- we are shoved against each other. Dante grabs my hand and gives it a quick, reassuring squeeze, then releases it. We remain beside each other, my shoulder brushing his tricep. Then Eric flips the board around to face us.

Dante is in first place. I am in eleventh. The initiates listed fourteenth through eighteenth are cut. Leah and Amos have been cut, along with two of the Dauntless-born. I look around the room for them, but I can’t find them anywhere. I get the feeling that they were told earlier to avoid humiliation, and were quietly slipped out a back door and sent to the Factionless section. I am sorry that I never got to say goodbye; while I didn’t know Amos much at all and Leah was never a real friend to me, I do feel terrible that they’ve been cut.

Before we leave, Eric announces that Visiting Day will take place tomorrow, and that we will have a three-day rest period, including tomorrow, before the next stage of initiation begins. We can spend our time off however we like, as long as we abide by Dauntless rules for initiates. Basically he means that none of us are to leave Dauntless headquarters without being accompanied by a Dauntless member.

I had nearly forgotten about Visiting Day, as wrapped up as I’ve been in everything that’s happening. I wonder if my parents will come see me. I like to think that they will, but at the same time, I am a little apprehensive about seeing them again. I don’t know how I’ll react if they do come. I don’t know how I’ll react if they don’t come, either.

With an hour to go before curfew, I make my way to the Pit. There is one heck of a party going on, celebrating the end of round one and those who passed it. Not only are the initiates celebrating, but many full-fledged members are in attendance as well.

I lost track of Dante while I was looking for Leah and Amos, but I find him again sometime later in the Pit. He is standing off to one side with three Dauntless members. As I pass them, I recognize them as the three whose table I took my lunch last week: presumably, Dante’s brothers. The four of them are passing around a dark bottle from which they are all drinking. I try to just walk past casually, not wanting to interrupt his time with his family. But as I am walking away, I hear him call my name.

“Hey, Rain!” I turn as though I hadn’t known he was there. He’s looking right at me, standing straighter than I’ve ever seen him… outside of a training ring, that it. His head is up, and his shoulders and arms are relaxed. He holds the bottle in one hand, and has the thumb of his free hand is hooked through a belt loop on his black jeans. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear anything other than our training gear, either. He walks from the shadowy corner into the glare of the harsh overhead light. He walks slowly, without his usual deliberate direction. I wonder how long they’ve been passing that bottle between them.

“Hey, Dante,” I say, trying to sound casual. He stops a few feet away from me, seeming to suddenly remember. He pauses, uncertain, but only for a moment.

“Come over here. I want you to meet some people,” he beckons me toward the corner. Three sets of full-fledged Dauntless members’ eyes are trained on me, and I find this very unnerving. But I follow Dante over.

“Guys, this is Rain. She’s the one I pulled back onto the roof on Choosing Day,” he tells them, then turns to me. “Rain, these are my brothers: Dale, Dameon, and Derrick.” He introduces me to each, indicating who’s who by pointing the mouth of the bottle at them.

“Well, it’s good to finally meet you, Rain,” Derrick says. “We’ve all been curious about the recipient of our kid brother’s heroic rescue.” Derrick has his septum pierced, and a tattoo of black vines that covers the entirety of his throat. He has the same brown hair as Dante, but his eyes are a paler color like the others’.

Dale, clearly the oldest, extends his hand toward me. I grasp it and he shakes mine firmly. “Nice to finally have a face to go with the name,” he says. He is shorter than the rest, but the deep smile lines and creases on his forehead mark him as the Big Brother of the group.

Dante passes the bottle to Dameon, who takes a swig, then offers it to me. I shake my head; I’ve never had alcohol in my life. A lopsided grin spreads across his handsome face. He appears to be closest in age to Dante, but still clearly several years older. 

“Not a drinker?” Dameon asks. I shake my head again. His grin spreads as he raised the bottle to his lips. “Well, in Dauntless, that’s likely to change. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. And congrats on getting through Stage One.” He takes a drink, but his pale eyes stay on me.

“Thank you,” I say, feeling a shy smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “It’s nice to meet you all, too.”

“Hey, did you eat anything yet?” Dante asks me. “Because I haven’t and I’m starving. Want to join me for a hot dog?” Without waiting for a reply, he leads me away from his brothers. “Guys, I’ll catch up to you later. Save some of that for me!” he calls back to them.

As soon as we’re out of earshot, I turn to Dante and narrow my eyes at him.

“What was that all about?” I ask.

“Dameon,” he says without looking at me. “He gets this… look when he starts flirting with a girl. And you just witnessed it.”

I put a hand over my mouth to suppress the surprised laugh that bursts out of me. Dante’s handsome older brother, flirting with me? Dante gives me a sideways glance.

“I would have been very jealous. I don’t stand a chance against charm like his,” he confides quietly. I elbow him in the ribs.

“Stop that. I’m not interested in Dameon.”

“Yeah, famous last words.”

“I’m serious! He could send me flowers every day and I still wouldn’t be interested.”

“No? Well, okay then. I guess I won’t have to be jealous,” Dante smiles a little. I nudge him again, and return his smile.

“Still want that hot dog? Because I really am very hungry,” I ask.

“Absolutely. And I know: no bun,” he replies. That makes me really smile: he remembered!

We find the hot dogs and retreat to an alcove at the edge of the Pit to eat them. Suddenly, I hear running feet behind me. I spin around to see Erica rushing up to me. She was ranked seventh, so I knew she was staying, but I had been focused on looking for Amos and Leah earlier. This is the first chance I’ve had to congratulate her. I step subtly away from Dante as she reaches me, focusing on her and hoping that she won’t even notice him standing in the shadows, but she is way too perceptive.

We chatter about our rankings and congratulate each other for a few seconds, but then she looks over my shoulder and freezes, a shocked expression on her face. I glance back. Dante is standing just outside of the alcove, fully in the light, watching us with that small smile. Erica’s eyes dart back and forth between us.

“Hey, Erica,” Dante greets her.

“Hi, Dante,” she answers sluggishly, then she focus on me and I can see the pieces falling into place in her head.

“Wait… are you two…” she leaves her question hanging. I just shrug, and drop my gaze. But my smile and my burning ears give me away.

“Seriously?!” She exclaims. Dante and I both hush her.

“Erica, please,” I hiss. “We really don’t want anyone to know anything just yet. You know, being initiates and all.”

“Oh geez,” she drops her voice. “Yeah, that’s no problem. I won’t say a word. As far as anyone’s concerned, I don’t know anything. Secret’s totally safe with me. But oh, wow! This is just… wow! Okay, I’ll leave you guys alone now. See you tomorrow at breakfast!”

And with that she retreats, disappearing into the crowd. Dante and I return to the alcove.

“Think she’ll say anything?” I ask him. He shakes his head.

“No. I’ve known Erica for a long time. She’ll keep her word.”


	9. Chapter 9

Special allowances are made tonight in celebration of the initiates who are continuing to Round Two: we don’t have to observe our usual curfew. I spend only a little of my extra time with Dante, during which it becomes apparent that he really has had a bit too much to drink. I worry about sending him back to his brothers because I know they’re going to pour more alcohol into him, but I also respect the fact that he is his own person and can make his own decisions. I have no right to keep him from spending time with his family, and no say in what he puts into his body. I’m barely more than an acquaintance.

An acquaintance that he kisses. An acquaintance to whom he showed his personal journal in order to tell me that he likes me, and wanted to be more than a friend.

But I still feel like I barely know him. I still know no more about his past than what Erica told me, and he doesn’t even know that I know that. After I return Dante to the charge of his brothers- who haven’t left their spot near the entrance- I set out to find Erica. I want to make sure she will keep her promise to Dante and me. But after combing the floor of the Pit for almost an hour, I haven’t seen any sign of her. Exasperated and growing tired, I decide to head back to the dorms. I am halfway across the floor when I hear someone shout my name. I turn toward the sound, and spot Four striding toward me.

“Congratulations,” he says when he reaches me. “I’m glad everything worked out. Now, Stage Two is very different from Stage One, and training the way you have been isn’t going to be much help. So after tonight, I don’t want you guys using the training room. It’s too risky, and not necessary anymore.”

“But… it helped me so much…” I feel my pulse pick up. If Four shuts us down, Dante and I lose our outlet for spending time together every night. My mind races, grasping for reasons to continue our sessions. I feel like Four has just pulled the rug out from under me. How else will Dante and I ever find time to spend time with each other, away from the gossip of the other initiates and from the scrutinizing eyes of our trainers and leaders?

“I know, Rain. And I’m glad that it did, but now it has to stop. Remember that I’m at risk here, too,” he reminds me. He’s right, of course. If Dante and I are caught in a training room alone, our instructors will be investigated. They are not supposed to offer special treatment to any initiates, and seeing as Four is an instructor-in-training, he could get in serious trouble that could jeopardize his career. 

“I understand,” I say, knowing the disappointment is evident in my voice. “But can you do me one favor?”

Four sets his jaw. He doesn’t look too happy about the idea of compromising. “What is it?” He asks coldly.

“Let me be the one to tell Dante.”

He studies me for a moment, his blue eyes boring into mine. His shoulders drop and he gives his head a small shake.

“Unbelieveable,” he mutters. Then, “Fine. Tell him before tomorrow night. And I will be checking all of the training rooms, regularly, to make sure they’re not occupied.”

He turns on his heel and retreats without waiting for my response. I am confused: does this guy trust me, or doesn’t he?

I know that tonight is not a good time to tell Dante that we have to end our training nights. I am a jumble of emotions, so I decide to just return to the dorm to try to relax and maybe get some sleep. I arrive to find all the lights on, but only one person is in the room: Spencer. With everything else that was going on, I almost forgot about him. But now it is evident that he has been in here almost all night, probably trying to avoid contact with everyone else.

He is sitting on his bunk with his back to me, facing the wall. His knees are drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his legs. His face is pressed to his knees, and it’s clear that he is crying. I can’t blame him: his twin sister just failed Stage One and must now live factionless for the rest of their lives. 

“Spencer,” I call softly.

“Go away,” he sobs. I am not surprised by his words, but the animosity in his tone is heartbreaking.

“I won’t,” I say gently. 

“Go away, Rain. Leave me alone.”

“Listen,” I say, more firmly, “I am not going to say that I understand how you feel, or give you any advice on what to do now: like how to feel, or what your family would want you to do. Doing that would just be a lie, because I don’t know any of those things. But I do understand what loss is like on some level. All of the transfers do. If you want to push us away, that’s up to you. But most of us are more than willing to offer support. Maybe I can’t give you advice, but I can listen if you ever want to talk.”

He doesn’t reply, just continues to sob softly into his knees. I grab my pajamas and a towel and head for the showers. I spend a long time just standing in the hot water, letting it wash over me like rain.

I remember how it rained on the day of the Choosing Ceremony. I remember slipping on the slick tile on the edge of the roof above Dauntless Headquarters. I remember Dante grabbing me and pulling me to safety. I remember Eric’s taunt that I should have kissed Dante for that. My mind wanders, and I find myself picturing what it would have been like to kiss him in the rain on that rooftop. It then occurs to me that I never did properly thank him for saving me. I owe him that.

The water starts to get cold so I finish my shower, towel off, and slip into the lightweight pants and tank top (black, of course) that serve as my pajamas. Our shower room is right next to the dorms, so it’s a short walk back. Upon my return, I find that Spencer hasn’t changed position, but his head is up and he’s staring at the wall now. He’s not crying anymore. His head turns slightly at the sound of me entering the room, but remains with his body facing the wall.

“Rain?” he calls softly.

“Yeah,” I answer flatly.

“I just wanted… just to say thanks. What you said; it means a lot. Made me think about how I should go on from here. I mean, I passed the first stage of Dauntless training, right? So that means I belong here, at least for now. So I should act like the Dauntless and just move on….” His words are decisive, but his tone is not. He sounds like he’s asking for reassurance, or approval.

“You’re right,” I tell him with confidence. “Your sister may not be here anymore, but she’ll always be with you as long as you keep her in your heart. And you’ll be with her. So, do this for her. Be strong enough, brave enough, for both of you.”

He turns to me. His eyes are red and puffy from crying, his cheeks streaked with tears. He looks pathetic, and I suddenly feel very sorry for him. 

“Thanks, Rain,” he murmurs. 

I toss my dirty clothes and damp towel onto my bed and walk across the room to Spencer’s bunk, and take a seat next to him, facing the opposite direction. I can see his profile out of the corner of my eye. He doesn’t look directly at me.

“Spencer, I’ll admit that I didn’t know Leah very well, and that she never acted like she wanted to be my friend. But I hope that you and I can be,” I glance sideways at him, an uncertain smile flitting at the corners of my mouth.

“I’d like to think that we already are, Rain,” his voice is scratchy and rough from crying, barely more than a whisper. My smile widens.

“We are,” I assure him. “So whenever you want to talk, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” he presses his lips together and closes his eyes as another tear slides down his cheek.

“Get some sleep. That sometimes helps me get past a bad day,” I advise. Spencer nods. I turn off the lights over the bunks, leaving on only those that illuminate the entrance before settling into my own bunk. I hear Spencer crawl beneath the covers of his own bunk and listen to the sound of his breathing. Eventually it steadies and deepens, and I know that he is asleep. I lie awake for a while thinking about everything: about Erica finding out about Dante and I; about Four cancelling our one-on-one sessions; about Dante introducing me to his brothers, anticipating Visiting Day; worrying about how well I’ll do in Stage Two; and about Dante.

I recall his relaxed posture when I found him with his brothers tonight. He usually looks like he’s either uncomfortable or ready to kick your ass. I’ve never seen him look like he’s just relaxed and having a good time like he was tonight. I wonder if that was because he was in familiar company, or because of the alcohol. The optimistic part of me wants to believe the former while the hardened part of me suspects the latter. Either way, I am glad that I was able to spend at least a little time with him.

I hear the remainder of my dorm mates filtering into the room and preparing for bed over the next hour. Finally, after everyone has returned and the lights are all off, I drift off to sleep. 

I dream of Dante again. I dream that he is standing on top of the roof above the hole we jumped into on Choosing Day. He is wearing the black jeans I saw him in tonight, and a black training jacket. The sun is shining and a light breeze blows through his hair, freeing a few strands from his trademark ponytail. In his hands he holds the brown journal. He extends it to me and I take it. I open it to the first crisp, white page. It’s blank. I turn page after page, and they are all blank. Confused, I look up at him. The sun is so bright that I have to squint so I can’t see his eyes. But I can see his smile.

“This one is for you to write,” he says. I close my eyes and smile, letting the sun warm my face


	10. Chapter 10

It takes a few moments for me to gather my wits when I wake up. It’s the first time in what feels like forever that I have not awoken to the sound of Four or Harrison making some type of racket that is guaranteed to jolt us from our dreams. For a brief moment this does not occur to me, but as soon as it does, I remember the reason: it’s Visiting Day.

I am somehow terrified that my family will show up, and terrified that they won’t. I glance around the room and see that several of my dorm mates have already risen and left the room, noting markedly that Spencer is not present. I hope he is doing a little better than last night, and that he was able to get enough sleep. I am sure today will be exceptionally difficult for him, whether his parents come to visit him or not. I can’t decide which would be worse for him.

It is 7:45 am when I get out of bed. Our families will start showing up after lunch, so I have several hours to kill until then. I have to keep my word to Four and tell Dante that our one-on-ones have been canceled, but because I have missed the big breakfast crowd I am sure that I probably won’t see him until at least lunch. With these two things weighing on my mind, I find that I am not hungry so I decide to skip breakfast and go for a run aboveground. I just need to get permission to leave the compound, and an escort to go with me.

I’m in luck; I run into Harrison hanging out with some other Dauntless members outside of the tattoo parlor. Because he is my primary instructor, it’s really his permission that I need. He grants it, and gives me the apartment number of a Dauntless member who volunteers as an escort for the initiates. Harrison assures me that she won’t mind going for a run.

I follow the steep walkway leading up the wall of the Pit to the housing block that Harrison indicated. I find apartment 18D and knock. A few moments later, the door opens and I find myself face to face with Dale. For a moment I think that I have the wrong apartment; that I must be at the wrong housing block. But Dale smiles and invites me in, almost as though he was expecting me.

“Good to see you again, Rain,” he greets me, gesturing for me to enter. “I take it you’re here because you need an escort to leave the compound. Carla can be ready in just a few minutes.”

I step inside the apartment and look around. It is small and sparsely furnished: a couch a three chairs surround a coffee table in the living room. A black area rug covers the stone floor in the center of the room. The walls are painted with an incredible wrap-around depiction of the city skyline. Dale notices me staring at it.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? Took Carla almost a year to complete. Have a seat and I’ll let her know you’re here,” he tells me. I sit in one of the chairs- black, but worn from use and fading to gray on the seat. It is comfortable.

Presently a short woman with copper skin and jet-black hair enters the room. She is small and sturdy; shorter even than I am, but corded with thick muscle. She has dark colored eyes that are alert and bright, and an easy smile.

“Hi Rain, it’s nice to meet you,” she greets me as she enters. “I’m Carla, Dale’s wife. So, what’s on your agenda for today?”

“Nice to meet you too, Carla. Thanks for agreeing to come with me.” I am a little surprised; I didn’t know that Dale was married. I wonder if Derrick is, too. It’s pretty clear that Dameon is not. 

I tell Carla that I want to do a run aboveground, just for a couple of miles. She nods her approval, and that seems to be the only preparation she needs other than telling her husband what route she intends to take and that we’ll be back in an hour or so.

I am glad that she has chosen a route that we initiates commonly used during group training exercises, when we were doing three- and four-mile runs to build our endurance. She explains that this is considered a safe route that keeps us away from riskier areas, where the Factionless gather. I don’t know what could be so dangerous about the Factionless, but I don’t ask. I’ve never encountered them directly; just seen them from afar as I traveled in and out of the city from my family’s farm.

Our pace is easy, which allows us to have conversations as we run. Carla breaks the ice.

“So I hear you’ve struck up a friendship with Dante,” she says. It’s not a question, nor is her tone gossipy, but I can tell she’s looking for details.

“Yes. He helped me out on the roof on Choosing Day, and I guess we just… sort of connected. You know, someone saves your life, and you just sort of become friends,” I say awkwardly. I don’t know how much I should tell Carla.

She laughs softly. “Yeah, I can see how that could happen. Well, I’m glad. Dante is a good kid, but he’s never really fit in with many of his peers. He’s as smart as a whip- would have done well in Erudite, probably. But he chose to stay in Dauntless, and he definitely belongs. He’s the perfect combination of brains and bravery. He’ll face any challenge, but not to the point of recklessness. And he’d do anything for his family. He has a huge heart, but no one would ever know it because he’s so shy.”

“So I’ve noticed,” I reply, thinking about how he resorted to letting me read his journal rather than outright telling me that he liked me because, as he said, he didn’t know what to say. Carla laughs again.

“Well, good! Most people his age just think he’s rude or aloof, and they don’t bother trying to get to know him. I’m glad he’s got a friend. And I’m glad it’s you.”

I’m not sure what she means by that, but I take it as a compliment. Knowing that someone close to Dante thinks that I am good for him sends a warm sensation flooding through my body.

We finish our run at a door by a rear entrance to the compound. A switchback case of metal stairs leads down to the Pit, and we walk the stairs slowly as a cool-down from our run. Carla leaves me at the door to my dormitory, and I see that I still have plenty of time before lunch for a shower. I rifle through my clothes, trying to find something that will make me look presentable to my family, but the only clothes I have are my combat suits, warm-ups, and pajamas. Before my shower I am going to have to hit a clothing store. I have enough points accrued to get a new outfit for Visiting Day.

The clothing store I know best is right next to the tattoo parlor. It is crowded today; a number of initiates have had the same idea as me. I peruse the racks for a bit before I spot a dress made of layers of lightweight, flowing material. I lift it and run my hand down its length. The material flows silkily through my fingers, flowing like water and clinging to nothing. I try it on in a fitting room at the back of a store, and I am struck by the impact it has on my reflection when I step in front of the mirror. Even with my sweat-streaked face and somewhat disheveled braid, the change wrought by the dress is remarkable. My pale skin is accentuated, not in a bad way, by the dark material. The sleeveless design shows off the new musculature in my shoulders and arms, which I notice is refined and feminine, without excess or bulk. The flowing top tapers to a fitted waistline, then the fabric flares at the skirt that ends at my knees. I find myself staring at my reflection. I have never owned a piece of clothing that looked so good on me. It’s as though it was designed for me. I am definitely no longer Plain Lorraine in this garment.

It costs me four points, half of what I’ve earned, but it is totally worth it. I grab a quick bite of lunch in the Pit before I rush back to the showers and begin preparing for Visiting Day. I decide that, with the change to this new dress, I need to make some other changes to my appearance. I decide to leave my hair down instead of braiding it. I haven’t worn it loose since I was a small child. After my shower, I brush it until it is dry. It falls in thick, spiraling, auburn curls to my waist. It feels strange as it brushes against my shoulders and the back of my arms. Strange, but good: it reminds me of Dante’s hair trailing along my shoulders as we sat side by side in the sparring ring, reading his journal entries about me.

At last, I am ready to go to the Pit to greet whichever members of my family will come see me. I am surprised to see not only the transfers but also many of the Dauntless-born initiates are present in the Pit, as well as our instructors and several of the Dauntless leaders. I suppose some diplomacy to the visiting families is in order, especially for transfer initiates whose parents may play important roles in their factions. 

I walk from one end of the Pit to the other and back again. My heart sinks. My family is nowhere to be found. I watch Joseph talking to a middle-aged man and woman in the red and yellow of Amity- I assume they are his parents. The colors of my old faction stand out garishly amongst all the black clothing. I spot a woman in a blue suit, and realize that she must be one of Spencer’s relatives. A woman with three young children, all dressed in black and white, walk past me, looking around eagerly. They all have the same square jaw and long neck as Nate, and I assume that they are his mother and siblings.

I wait about thirty minutes before succumbing to the admission that my family isn’t coming. I turn to leave the Pit when I spot Dante entering at the far end. He is walking next to a woman with sandy brown hair who I can’t see clearly. They are both looking through the crowd; searching… then Dante’s eyes fall on me. He turns quickly to the woman beside him, pointing in my direction. She steps in front of him.

The sight of the red and yellow tie-dyed dress that Annette is wearing almost brings tears to my eyes. She turns to say something to Dante, and then strides towards me with a huge smile on her face. I want to laugh and cry and hug her and jump up and down. Instead, we share a brief embrace and whisper each other’s names.

“Goodness, Lorraine, you look so different! I almost didn’t recognize you! Thank goodness for your friend. I may have never known you if he hadn’t pointed you out,” Annette is her usual cheerful, talkative self. I squeeze her hand, glancing around behind her. She follows my gaze, and finally understands who I’m looking for.

“Oh, Lorraine, I am so sorry. They couldn’t come. It’s been a hard summer, and we need as many people as we can get to dig trenches for new irrigation pipes,” she explains apologetically. “They wanted to come, and they hoped you’d understand.”

I force a smile. “I understand, of course.” But if they needed as many people as they could get, then… “How did you get permission to come, if they need everyone for the new pipes?”

Annette’s face brightens and her smile broadens, a knowing look in her eyes. “Well, let’s just say that, at this stage, I am not to be doing any hard labor.” And it dawns on me.

“Annette!” I exclaim, “you’re going to have a baby?!”

She laughs and nods. I laugh with her, and give her another hug. Paul always wanted to be a father. I am happy for them both. She tells me when the baby is due, and how Paul and our parents reacted when they found out. Everyone is very excited by the sound of things.

She also asks me about my initiation. I tell her about how I was having trouble at the beginning: thanks to the insight and advice of one of my brilliant instructors, however, I was able to improve the areas where I was doing poorly, and earned a passing rank in the first stage. She gives me her encouragement, and promises to relay a full progress report to my parents and Paul. 

All too soon, it’s time for her to go. I walk with her to the end of the Pit where the Dauntless leaders will escort the visiting families back to the surface. I know that I may never see her again after this, but I must be brave. I fight the crushing feeling in my chest and force myself to smile as Annette disappears into the darkness beyond the mouth of the Pit. I turn away, and cast my eyes down to hide the tears that threaten to spill from them. I can’t see where I’m going, and I nearly collide with several people before a hand grabs my arm and pulls me out of the throng. I’d know the feel of those fingers anywhere; they are Dante’s.

I wipe my eyes hard with the back of my hand, hoping that he won’t notice that I was about to cry, and look up at him. He is staring at me with an expression that I have never seen before. I get the feeling that even if he did see the tears, it wouldn’t have mattered. The heaviness within me lifts a little as I look into his eyes. He says nothing, but very slowly he brings up one hand to the side of my head. He takes a single looping curl of my hair between his fingers and runs them through its length, lingering briefly at the end. The intensity of his expression unnerves me. And here I thought I was getting accustomed to those amazing eyes of his. 

For several moments we just stand there in silence, eyes locked on each other’s. Then he touches me softly on the shoulder, shifting his gaze from my eyes to the place where the skin of his fingertips contacts my own. His expression is almost reverent.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, lifting his hand and turning away slowly. I follow him, a few paces behind. He is heading towards the Dauntless-born dorms, and I do not want to be seen leaving the Pit at his side. The hall is all but deserted, and in the shadows of a curve in the wall he stops and turns to me.

“Rain,” he whispers, placing his hands lightly on my shoulders, “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, because I know what it sounds like. But please trust me when I say that it doesn’t mean what you might think.”

“Dante, if you are talking about training together, I already know it has to stop. I talked to Four last night. He explained it,” I tell him. I see relief flooding his face, and his shoulders relax as he sighs.

“Thank you,” he murmurs as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back. “I was worried you’d think that I didn’t want to see you anymore. But I know that type of training won’t help us in the second stage, and could even be a distraction. Also… I…”

“What is it?” I ask him. He hesitates, averting his eyes for a moment, then bringing them back. I see that he is looking at my dress, his eyes traveling up and down mu body. I swallow hard and take a step closer to him. “Hey, you can tell me anything, you know.”

“I know,” he sighs. “It’s just the actual saying it that I have problems with.”

“Just say it. It’s okay,” I take another step.

“Okay,” he breathes. “It’s about distraction. You are one. To me. But in the best way possible.”

I feel a frown crease my brow. I’m not sure I know what he’s trying to say. 

“How so?” I ask.

“Well, remember that first night we talked by the Chasm?” I nod. “The rip in your combat suit. I kept looking at it, but it wasn’t just the damaged fabric I was seeing. I was seeing you, the person in the suit. And I started thinking about the suit on you, and about the other clothes I’ve seen you in.”

“That’s mostly been combat suits,” I point out. A lopsided smile crosses his face, and he looks away again.

“I also remember the clothes you wore at the Choosing Ceremony. I like you better in black, but I do like the style of the Amity clothes you came here in. I told you how I helped Dale with the design of the suits, right? Well, a couple weeks ago I designed something else. A different kind of suit, and your old clothes were a part of it… but with Dauntless colors.”

He pauses again, as if waiting for me to say something. 

“Well, I think I might like to see what you designed sometime,” I tell him, feeling a little giddy that he would use me as his inspiration for a design. I am very close to him now; only a few inches separate us.

“You already have,” he whispers, eyes still averted.

“Have I?” I ask playfully. He nods. His gaze returns to my eyes, as fiery and intense as I’ve ever seen it.

“You’re wearing it.”

Suddenly I feel like my heart is about to explode from my chest.


	11. Chapter 11

I am frozen in place, the emotions running through me threatening to make me collapse. Elation, trepidation, respect, pride, disbelief, adoration, and anxiety all jumble together in a mess I can only describe as shock. This is the very last thing I expected to hear from Dante. I can’t even speak. 

Dante claims that he often says nothing when he can’t find the right words. This is different, because I genuinely believe that there are no words. Suddenly, I want desperately to be alone with him, so I can put my arms around him and let him feel this thunder in my chest that he’s caused, and hope he’ll understand what it means. But that’s impossible right now. I stand there in front of him, staring into his eyes. I can’t speak. He just looks at me the same way that he has been for the last several minutes, like he’s seeing me for the first time.

“You…” my voice comes out a squeak from my constricted throat. I try to relax, and start again. “You made this dress? How? When? I just bought it in the shop by the tattoo parlor today…”

“I started the design in my head on Choosing Day. When it was done, I gave the design to Dale. He gave it to Clara. Clara runs the shop by the tattoo parlor. So she made it, not me,” he reaches out and caresses the gathered fabric on my shoulder. “But I did design it around you. I just… never imagined that you’d pick it out on your own.” It occurs to me that he is as awestruck by seeing me in this dress, as I am to learn that he designed it with me in mind.

“Dante,” I whisper, “this is… I don’t even know what to say. ‘Amazing’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. When I bought it, I thought it was incredibly beautiful. And now…” My heart is pounding, my ears burning, and I feel like I am going to laugh and cry at the same time. He just continues to stare at me. Suddenly he steps forward and grabs my wrist with one hand. 

“Come with me,” he says softly. He leads me down the hallway, away from the Pit, away from the dorms, past the training rooms. The corridor darkens as we proceed farther along, and Dante slows his pace. He slides his fingers down my wrist to my hand and weaves his fingers into my own.

“Where are we going?” I ask presently.

“Somewhere where no one else will be tonight,” he replies. I feel a twinge of anxiety when he says this; I’m not sure what his expectations are at this point, and I am not sure that being alone in an unfamiliar place with him is a good idea. But I follow him because I want to trust him.

We emerge onto a room that seems familiar, and when my eyes adjust to the darkness I see the net in the center. This is the entrance to Dauntless Headquarters that we used in Choosing Day, when Dante was the first jumper and I was the thirteenth. He is right about us being alone. There is not a soul in sight, and we passed no one in the corridors leading to this place. We both know that there are guards high above us on the roof above the hole, but here at the bottom it’s only us.

We walk up to the edge of the net and he releases my hand. He pulls down one side of the net with one hand, then in one swift motion he wraps his free arm around my waist, lifts me up, turns me around, and deposits me on the edge of the net, seated facing him. He releases his grip and boosts himself onto the edge beside me, moving with an easy grace. The entire process takes less than five seconds, and I suddenly become aware of just how strong Dante actually is. He lifted me like a leaf, then pulled himself onto the net like we was doing something that required no more effort than turning a knob and opening a door.

We sit silently on the edge of the net for a few moments before Dante falls back, bringing up his legs and rolling into the center of the net. I watch him as he sprawls on his back with his hands cradling his head. He looks over at me, extends one hand in my direction, and gestures for me to join him. I am far less graceful than he, but I manage to crawl to his side. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me down beside him. Our faces are inches apart

“Look up,” he whispers. I do look up, and I gasp at the sight above me. Through the hole in the ceiling, I see a sky filled with millions of stars. I have not seen the night sky since I left Amity, and I’ve forgotten how beautiful it is. Dante pulls me close, and I lay my head on his shoulder.

“I missed seeing them,” I whisper, hoping he will understand what I mean.

“I thought you might,” he murmurs, kissing the side of my head. He knows, of course. Dante, who designed a dress based on the style of my Amity clothes but in Dauntless colors, who envisioned the most beautiful garment I’ve ever worn; of course he would understand that I missed seeing the stars at night. Having spent his whole life in Dauntless Headquarters, he would know the best place to view them. And on this night, he brought me here to see them because… because…

I turn my face to his, and he kisses me slowly. I close my eyes. I feel like I am going to melt into him. I reach one hand up and touch his chest, over his heart. I can feel it beating, strong and fast beneath my fingertips. I feel his breath against my cheek, and the softness of his lips against mine. When we break apart, I shift to my back and gaze up at the stars. I can’t remember a more perfect night in my life.

“Can I tell you something, Dante?” I ask. We are both looking up at the sky.

“Sure,” he whispers. I swallow hard.

“I think I’m going to be very happy here,” I say simply. I don’t want to admit more than that right now, even though there is so much more that I want to say.

“Can I tell you something now?” he asks, surprising me.

“Of course,” I encourage him.

“You’re beautiful.”

I feel my breath catch in my throat, and my heart does a somersault in my chest. I almost gasp.

“No one’s ever called me that before. I’ve always thought I looked so…plain,” I cringe a little as my old nickname passes my lips.

“I see why people might think that,” he admits. “But they’re not seeing what I see. They’re not seeing you. When I look at you, I see… life. Vibrant, animated, emotional, and not afraid. I’ve never known anyone who looks and acts as alive as you do. And I think it’s beautiful. I saw it the very first time I saw you, at the Choosing Ceremony, as soon as your blood hit those coals.”

“Can I tell you something else?” I ask.

“You don’t have to ask.”

“This dress... it’s amazing. The minute I saw it I knew I had to have it. When I tried it on, I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever worn. But you… when you told me that you had designed it, that made it more than beautiful,” I pause. “It’s very special. The nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He smiles.

“I didn’t do it to be nice. I did it because I can’t get you off my mind.” This time I do gasp. I can’t believe that Dante, shy and withdrawn Dante, is admitting this to me.

“I can’t say I mind being on it,” I tell him. He doesn’t reply; just wraps both arms around me and pulls me closer to his side. We lay on the net side by side for a long time, looking up at the stars. Sometimes we talk; sometimes we are quiet. I find that I am growing accustomed to Dante’s silences and actually becoming comfortable with them. I am just happy to be in his presence on this night.

After what must be hours, he sits up and tells me that we should get back to our dorms. Even though we don’t have training or a curfew for the next few days, the other initiates and our trainers will note our absence. We climb off the net and slip back into the darkness of the corridor to the Pit. I leave Dante at the entrance to his dorm. There are several people walking past, so we can’t risk more than a verbal good-night. I watch him disappear behind the door, and retreat to my dorms at the other end of the Pit. Everyone is in bed when I arrive; only the light just inside the door is on. I flip the switch to “off” and make my way quietly towards my bed.

“Rain?” I hear someone whisper ahead of me as I climb beneath the covers.

“Yeah,” I whisper back.

“Are you okay? You were gone a long time. We didn’t see you at dinner.” It’s Spencer.

“Sorry, Spencer,” I whisper. “I had to talk to somebody about something. It took longer than I thought.”

“It’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Well… good night.”

“Good night, Spencer.”

Even though he’s whispering, I hear something in his words that makes me uneasy. Spencer has never expressed concern over me missing meals before. Maybe he just wanted to talk to me, I think, and suddenly I feel horrible. I promised him that I would be there for him if he ever needed to talk, and tonight I abandoned that promise without so much as a second thought. I decide to talk to him at breakfast tomorrow, and to apologize for not keeping my word.


	12. Chapter 12

I awaken the next morning at around the same time that we were roused for training during Stage One. I suppose I’ve become accustomed to it. I realize that I slept in my new dress last night. Glancing around the room, I see that I am the only one awake; the rest of my dorm mates are still asleep. I hurriedly change into a warm-up suit, then fold my dress carefully and place it in the footlocker under my bed. Having skipped dinner last night after eating only a light lunch, I am now absolutely famished. I start for the door alone, but then I remember my promise. I tiptoe over to Spencer’s bunk and gently shake his shoulder. His eyes open slowly, bleary with sleep.

“Morning, Spence,” I whisper. He smiles. His disheveled blond hair sticks up in every direction. “I’m going for breakfast. Want to come?”

He nods, and peels back the covers. He sleeps in just his warm-up shorts. I turn away modestly, but I can’t help but notice the developing definition in his torso and arms. My ears warm up. I walk back to my bed and fuss with my pillow and pretend to be smoothing wrinkles in the blankets while Spencer gets dressed in the corner.

“Ready?” he asks quietly.

“Sure,” I say casually, depositing the pillow on my bed. 

We walk to the Pit, neither of us speaking. The silence is different than the silences that Dante and I share, which have become comfortable; a way of just enjoying the simple state of being in each other’s company. Spencer is different. His silence has an aura that reminds me of the way I felt when I first started spending time with Dante, like there was always something that someone wanted to say but either we didn’t know how, we didn’t think it was the right place, had assumptions of expectations, or some other awkwardness that kept us from speaking.

Spencer and I take our seats across from each other, sitting on either side of a heaping platter of pancakes and sausage. His face brightens at the sight of the breakfast fare.

“Ooh, pancakes! I love pancakes!” he exclaims, and proceeds to devour half a dozen of them, along with a large quantity of the sausage links. Presently he looks across me at the table. He is trying to be brave and carry on, I can see, but I can also see the emptiness deep in his blue eyes.

“How did Visiting Day go for you?” he asks. “I saw some people here from Amity, but I couldn’t tell if they were related to you.”

“It was probably Joseph’s family who you saw,” I answer. “Only my brother’s wife came to see me. There is a big irrigation project in my family’s sector, so they needed as many people to work as they could get. Annette is expecting a baby, so she doesn’t have to do the hard labor projects now and that’s why she was able to visit me.”

“Wow, how exciting,” Spencer says, smiling kindly. “How old is your brother? Is this their first baby?”

“He’s three years older than I am. I think he and Annette have been in love forever. And yes, this is their first baby. It’s weird to think that I’ll be an aunt, but that I’ll probably never see my niece or nephew,” I reply. That’s the one downside of Faction Before Blood, as we all say when we have transferred factions and left our families behind.

“You could, you know,” Spencer drops his voice, taking on a conspiring tone.

“Oh really?” I humor him. “How?”

“Well, you know that the Dauntless guard the fence, right?” Of course I do; I nod. “Well, there’s another line of perimeter guards who are also Dauntless. There haven’t been many of them up until now, but in the last few months, Dauntless leadership have been increasing their numbers. They’re called the Perimeter Guard, and they guard what’s called the Point of No Return. It’s a boundary that’s a couple of miles past the outer Amity farms. It’s basically a wasteland, but they are the first line of defense if anything threatens the city. They are there to alert the Amity and the fence guard if something happens. Think about it: you could see your family, and you would be acting as your little niece or nephew’s defender. All you have to do is make it through Stage Two with a high enough ranking.”

I have stopped eating. I am staring at Spencer with wide eyes and my mouth hanging open. I close it quickly when I realize that I have a half-chewed mouthful of pancake in it. I chew rapidly and swallow.

“Spence, that’s brilliant! I never knew about the Perimeter Guard. And I never really thought about what job I wanted in Dauntless after initiation. Wow, that really gives me something to look forward to. Thank you,” I say. He smiles, but his eyes are still empty.

“Can I ask how Visiting Day went for you?” It’s like testing the water with my toe before stepping in. Spencer is quiet for a moment, staring at the space over my head.

“It was easier than I thought,” he says slowly. “Our… my mother came to see me. She hadn’t been told about Leah. I had to do it. It was really hard not to get emotional about it, but I couldn’t; not with Eric standing right behind me the whole time. Luckily, Mom is a tough person and she pointed out a few strengths that Leah lacked. Strengths that I do have.”

“Eric,” I reply, my voice filled with contempt. “I really do not like that guy. He just… rubs me the wrong way.”

“Oh, he’s not so bad. He’s incredibly strong and brave. Having him there helped me understand how I should deal with loss as the Dauntless do. You know who I really don’t like here is Four. I think he’s a coward. He finished first in his initiation class last year, apparently way ahead of the others. They offered him a leadership position, but he declined. It just seems to me that he’s shirking his responsibilities to the faction.” Spencer certainly isn’t shy about voicing his opinion on the matter. I never thought of Four as being a coward for turning down the leadership position; just humble. I think he’s good at what he does, but I’m not so sure he would make a good representative to an entire faction on a political level. But Spencer is entitled to his opinion, so I don’t argue.

After breakfast, we wander aimlessly around the compound, eventually finding ourselves at the entrance to a tunnel where the train tracks lead underground. We perch on an old, dilapidated bench on the platform of what must have once been a train station. The trains don’t stop here anymore, and we watch several go by in both directions; Dauntless members jumping on and off near the platform as they go about their lives in the city aboveground and here in the Pit. Through our conversation it becomes apparent that Spencer has been very curious about the other transfers and what life was like as a minor in other factions, before we all came to join Dauntless. I tell him a little about farming life, avoiding details that I think might bore anyone who didn’t grow up in Amity. I do tell him about the time we had to plow the fields with the horses because the tractor needed to be repaired. I also tell him about the baby chicks that climbed all over my arms and legs when I was little. He asks me a lot about my life before the day I took my aptitude test, but only offers a little information about his own. I get the feeling that he’s trying to distract himself from the pain of the loss of Leah, who was a part of his life every single day up until two days ago, and if I can help make it any easier by talking about other things then I am happy to talk to him for hours.

It crosses my mind on several occasions how very different Dante and Spencer are. Spencer is of a very average height with short blond hair; Dante is remarkably tall and has long, dark brown hair. Spencer seems to be an endless fountain of verbal exchanges, whereas Dante and I spend most of our time together in silence. But the most markedly different thing about them is their eyes. Dante’s are a rich brown that seem like they are aflame with life. Spencer’s are a medium blue that I’m sure would look very nice if only they were not completely devoid of emotion.

Talking for hours is exactly what we end up doing. In the middle of our conversation, I feel a sudden pinching sensation in my midsection and realize that it must be close to lunchtime.

“Hey, are you hungry? Should we go get some lunch?” Spencer asks, as though he’s read my thoughts.

“Starving,” I reply with a smile.

We return to the Pit and the lunch crowd is in full force. We manage to find a handful of empty seats at a table with a few of the other initiates and take our seats beside them. Among them is Erica, who has apparently been looking for me today. I introduce her to Spencer.

“We’ve been walking around the complex all morning,” Spencer explains to Erica. “Rain has been regaling me with details on the incredibly interesting life of a minor on an Amity farm.”

I smack him on the shoulder playfully. “Don’t tease, Spence! You’re the one who asked,” I scold. He grabs his shoulder where I hit him in mock agony.

“I wasn’t teasing! I really do think it’s interesting. Very different from Erudite, that’s for sure,” Spencer defends. A few of the other Dauntless-born initiates join us, leaving only the seat to my left open. They join our conversation, which turns to our thoughts on Stage One of initiation, and what we are predicting for Stage Two. I finish eating and I am focusing on Joseph, who sits across the table and down several seats from me, when someone slides into the empty seat beside me. I somehow know before I even turn my head that it’s Dante. I glance at him, but he pointedly looks at his plate, setting about with deliberate focus on preparing his meal. All the others’ eyes are on Joseph as he tells us about what he speculates will be our challenges in Stage Two, so I risk a few words.

“Thank you for last night,” I murmur. For a moment, Dante doesn’t say anything.

“I should be thanking you,” he says quietly.

“Doing anything tonight?”

“Only if you’ll come with me.”

“You don’t even have to ask. Where and when?”

“Chasm, after dinner.”

I nod. Dante goes back to his meal and I return my focus to Joseph and the others. I see Erica look away from me quickly. Of course she noticed Dante and I; for a moment I’m nervous about what she will do. She glances at me a moment later, offering a wink and a small smile, and I know she won’t give us away. I smile back at her. I grip the edge of my seat with both hands and lean forward to give me a better view of Joseph. Under the table, I feel Dante’s fingers brush the back of my left hand. I deftly turn my hand palm-up, and he slides his fingers between mine. I stay focused on the conversation, and he carries on eating. Every once in a while, Dante slides his thumb across the back of my hand, sending rippling sensations across my skin that make it very hard to pretend that nothing is going on between us.


	13. Chapter 13

Dante releases my hand slowly as he finishes his lunch, withdrawing his own inch by inch from beneath the table. I can’t decide if he’s doing this because he doesn’t want to draw attention by suddenly releasing my hand, or if he is just loath to break this small physical connection that we’ve secretly shared during our meal. For me, it’s a little of both. Just before he slips away completely, he gives my wrist a gentle squeeze with his fingertips. Then he’s gone; rising from the table in one fluid movement and walking away without a word to anyone. I am acutely aware of his retreating presence, to the point that I miss something Erica has asked.

“Hello? Earth to Rain?” she chirps, snapping her fingers in front of my face. I look up quickly. Half the table has emptied, and I never even noticed. Erica and two other Dauntless-born initiates, along with Spencer and I, are all that remain. I recognize the neon-green haired boy as Vince, who asked me about Dante saving me on the roof during my very first meal in the Pit. The other is a girl with whom I have never spoken.

“Sorry,” I say, hoping my blush doesn’t show. “I was… listening to something else. What did you say?”

A knowing look flickers across Erica’s face, long enough for only me to notice it. “I asked you if you are coming to the Pit at our normal curfew time. We’re all going to meet up and hang out tonight because we don’t have to be in the dorms until lights out. It’s only what we’ve been talking about for the last fifteen minutes.”

“Sorry,” I apologize again. “Yeah, I’m in.”

“Great,” Spencer replies, rising from his seat on my right and gesturing for me to follow. “We’ll see you guys tonight.”

“Hold on a sec, Spence,” Erica stops him. “I’m coming with you two. I want to show you guys something.”

“What are you showing them, Erica?” Vince interjects.

“Nothing that you’d be interested in. I’m just going to show them around the upper areas of the Pit, that’s all,” she retorts. “Seeing as they’re both transfers, I doubt they’ve ever gone up there other than with Harrison, and he’s an awful tour guide.”

“Fair enough,” Vince concedes grudgingly. He returns to the remnants of his lunch. Erica, Spencer, and I are done, so we rise and head toward the entrance to the Pit that leads past the Chasm and up to the area where I visited Carla and Dale the day before.

Erica guides us along the steep, rail-less switchback paths that lead up the walls of the Pit, explaining the purpose of the different areas as we reach them. We pass the home she shared with her parents until Choosing Day, and she shows us where the apartments are that are being prepared for the current initiates.

“A bunch of the previous occupants have started families, so these single units are getting to be too crowded for them. They’re moving to bigger ones in the higher floors,” she explains, then describes the rotational process of Dauntless housing. “Initiates of the same year usually end up in the same housing blocks for the first few years. At first they all have similar needs and a small, basic apartment suits them fine. But as they get older, start to settle into occupations and relationships, their lifestyles change and their housing needs begin to vary. That’s usually when most of them relocate to other areas; and those areas are vacated by the older Dauntless members who choose to… well, retire, sort of.” Erica trails off awkwardly.

I think about what it must be like to be an aging member of Dauntless. I think about what it would mean to the faction, to its younger members, to begin to age and lose my strength and to slowly lose my ability to live independently. I understand what Erica means by “retire”.

Spencer, however, seems to miss it.

“What do they do when they retire?” He asks. Erica faces him and opens her mouth. She seems unwilling to explain it. She closes it again and tucks the scarlet lock of her hair behind her ear. She clears her throat and takes a deep breath.

“Spencer,” I interrupt, “have you ever seen an elderly member of Dauntless?”

He pauses for a moment, considering my question. I can see it coming together in his head. His expression collapses.

“I see,” he says curtly. Erica releases her breath. Neither of us wanted to say the word “factionless” in Spencer’s presence, especially so soon after what happened to Leah.

Erica continues with the tour, but the atmosphere in our trio has become notably stressed. Laughs feel forced, and Erica has lost the bounce in her step. We finish our rounds at a large, red metal door that Erica calls the Computer Lab, where the majority of Dauntless video surveillance of the city takes place. She informs us that there are usually several jobs there that are available to any initiate, regardless of where they finish in the rankings at the conclusion of Stage Two, as long as they are within the top ten. I get the feeling that she is saying this for my benefit, seeing as I finished Stage One barely above the passing line.

When we return to the Pit, Erica says that she wants to get a shower before dinner. I’m a bit disappointed that I don’t get a chance to talk to her alone; I wanted to know if Dante had been invited to tonight’s gathering, but she’s gone before I have a chance to say anything. After she leaves, I tell Spencer that I want to pay a visit to the tattoo parlor. He has shown no interest in getting something permanently placed on his body other than what he was born with so he leaves me to it, telling me he’ll catch up with me at dinner. The moment he steps away, my mind immediately returns to Dante and our interaction at lunch, and I feel light as a feather. I find myself nearly skipping on my way to the tattoo parlor. I imagine what a sight that must be: an initiate skipping her way to get tattooed. I force myself back to a dignified walk, but I can’t help grinning.

It seems that everyone and their uncle has had the same idea as me tonight, because the tattoo parlor is unbelievably crowded. Tori and the other artists are swamped, and from the looks of things they will be for hours to come. Conceding the fact that my new tattoo idea will have to wait, I wander to the clothing store next door where I bought that wonderful, wonderful dress that has become probably my most prized possession.

The store is the polar opposite from the tattoo parlor: there is not a single customer inside. I start shuffling through the clothes on a rack near the door. The sound of someone moving boxes around in the back reaches my ears. I move farther into the store, exploring the footwear rack. Presently I hear footsteps heading my way, and I am not surprised when Carla emerges from the back room of the shop.

“Well, hello Rain,” she greets me. “Good to see you again. Looking for anything special tonight?”

I wasn’t originally, but I suddenly think about the initiate gathering planned for later tonight. I have nothing to wear other than my combat suits, my warm-ups, pajamas, and my dress- none of which seem right for this.

“Yeah… I guess I am. But I need your help: I’m pretty clueless when it comes to knowing what’s in style. And there’s this thing tonight. Some of the initiates are getting together to celebrate our being allowed out after curfew, and, well, I have nothing to wear… and I don’t have many points left after I bought a dress here last night.”

Carla raises an eyebrow. “You bought a dress last night, and you claim that you have nothing to wear?”

I feel my ears heat up again. “Yeah, well, the dress was for Visiting Day. It’s a little too… special for tonight, I think,” I reply.

“Hold on a sec. Did you buy the dress that I think you bought?” She slips out from behind the counter and heads right for the rack where I found the dress.

“Sort of silky-gauzy, sleeveless, gathered shoulders, fitted waist, flaring knee-length skirt?” I ask, hoping I’ll save her the trouble of searching. She looks up at me.

“That’s the one,” she replies. I don’t miss the hesitation that follows, as though she’s debating saying more about the dress.

“If you’re going to ask if I know who made the dress, or who designed it, the answer is ‘yes’. And that’s why…” I stop myself short, not wanting to say too much. A knowing look replaces the one of uncertainty in Carla’s face.

“Say no more, Rain. I understand. Wow, I bet he was flattered.” She winks at me, and my jaw drops. For keeping this thing a secret, it seems that there are an awful lot of people who suspect that there’s something between Dante and myself. “You’re in luck, girl. I have some shirts and a pair of jeans that should do the trick. And I’ll tell you what: I’ll lend them to you. I know how much that dress cost you, and I don’t want you running out of points. Looks bad on an initiate, you know? So you can borrow these; just bring them back tomorrow.”

“Please tell me if any of these were designed by… anyone I should know about,” I ask as she retrieves the pile of black textiles. She laughs.

“No, these are standard pattern garments. No special designers,” she assures me.

Carla lays out three shirts and the black jeans in front of me. I try on each of the shirts and she gives me her opinion on each. At last I choose the one with the fitted bodice and loose half-sleeves. The back of the shirt is slashed diagonally across both shoulder blades, revealing my tattoo. Carla gives me a thumbs-up, reminding me again that I have to return the outfit tomorrow. I stammer over words of gratitude that are woefully inadequate, which she just waves off and shoos me out the door so I won’t be late for dinner.

Or late for Dante, I think.

Dinner is the usual clamoring, noisy, rambunctious activity that it always is in Dauntless. I sit beside Erica and across from Spencer; Dante is nowhere to be seen. Spencer and Nate are deep in conversation when I arrive, which frees me up to talk to Erica for most of the meal. I am glad to see that she has returned to her usual, boisterous self. We talk about some of the places she showed us earlier, and I ask her about the underground entrance where Spencer and I spent the morning. Her eyes grow big and round when I mention the dilapidated platform.

“Come with me after dinner, girl,” she says in a low voice so no one else can hear. “We have to talk.”

“I can’t,” I object, “I have… something I have to take care of.”

“No, we need to talk. Believe me,” she squeezes my arm for emphasis.

“Okay, it’ll have to be quick,” I tell her. 

“It won’t take long. But you do need to know something about that platform,” she murmurs.

“I need to ask you one thing after dinner, too,” I confide. She nods, and we return our attention to our fellow initiates.

After our meal has been consumed, everyone heads in his or her own direction. Erica and I linger in the Pit behind the rest. Once they are all out of earshot, she turns to me with a serious expression.

“Did Spencer take you to that platform this morning?” She asks.

“No, not really. We were just wandering and sort of stumbled across it,” I answer, trying to remember just how we ended up there.

“Well, you need to know that, that platform is pretty significant to anyone who’s not there to catch a train,” she informs me. “That’s where the last murder in the city took place, before Dauntless took full control of civilian safety and policing. I don’t know all the details, but I do know that it was a Dauntless initiate who was killed. A girl. She was lying behind the bench when they found her.”

“Are you serious?” A chill runs down my spine. “Do you think… do you think that Spencer knows about that?”

“It’s hard to say,” she says, frowning at the ground in contemplation. “It’s mostly the Dauntless-born who know the story. But he came from Erudite, and they have books with all kinds of information in them. He could have read about it.”

“That’s just weird,” I shiver. “But honestly, I don’t think he knows. We just talked about light stuff today. Mostly he asked me about my old faction,” I assure her. “He just seemed curious about my childhood, I guess.”

“Well, okay,” Erica looks back up at me. “Just be careful. Now, what did you want to ask me?”

I quickly put aside the story about the platform. I glance around to make sure no one is within earshot.

“Did anyone invite Dante to hang out tonight?” I whisper.

Erica first frowns, then grins.

“No one ever invites Dante to do anything anymore, for fear of getting our asses kicked in one way or another,” she chuckles.

“Well, do you think they’d mind if I invited him?”

“Are you willing to expose…?” she gasps.

“No! I mean, just as friends. And really, that’s all we really are at this point. Well, special friends… it’s complicated. But about tonight, I want to invite him.”

“Sure,” she shrugs, still grinning. “But you’ll both have to live with the gossip.”

“I know, and that’s why I’m not even sure that he’ll agree to it.”

“Well, even if he doesn’t, you’re expected to show up. Good luck, Rain. See you in a couple hours!” She gives me a quick hug and then strides away back toward her dorm.

I take a deep breath and begin walking toward the Chasm.


	14. Chapter 14

The railing at the edge of the Chasm is almost as crowded as the tattoo parlor was earlier. It takes me a moment to find Dante, and when I do I see that he’s standing with Dameon and a young woman whom I don’t know. He looks like he’s deep in a conversation with them, but the expression in his eyes is light; almost amused. Dameon seems very animated, doing a lot of talking with his hands while maintaining one arm draped around the girl’s shoulders. I don’t want to interrupt, so I find an open spot on the railing a good distance away from their little group. I settle against it, knowing I might be here a while before I can approach Dante. I position myself so he has a full view of me over Dameon’s right shoulder. Presently, I see his eyes flick to mine. He holds my gaze for only a split second, but the communication in them is clear:

Wait.

I will wait. I will wait all night for him if I have to.

The crowd around me thins after a while, drifting away from the Chasm alone, in pairs, or in small groups. The din of all the voices dies down, and I can make out pieces of the conversations around me. Eventually Dameon and his companion break away from the rail, leaving Dante alone. After retreating a few paces, the girl turns back and calls to him.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You two have fun,” he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Suit yourself. But Dante… you need to get out more. You need to start spending time with people other than that dull batch of initiates you’re cooped up with. Especially if you want to…” she replies. 

“Yeah, I get it,” he cuts her off mid-sentence. He sounds annoyed, and he glares at the girl. She shrugs, turns back to Dameon, throws an arm around his waist, and together they stride away. Dante continues to glare at their retreating backs. After they disappear, he shifts his eyes back to me. I haven’t moved from my place on the rail. When his eyes meet mine, his shoulders relax and his chin rises. He gives a small jerk of his head as the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly.

“Follow me,” he mouths to me, then retreats in the opposite direction taken by Dameon and his companion. He leads me down a corridor I’ve never explored before, and I learn that it leads past the kitchens. I hear the clamor of cleanup from the evening meal as we pass several pairs of swinging doors. Blue lights dimly light the corridor, and once we get past the kitchens, I see that it is almost completely deserted. Dante slows his pace, dropping back to walk beside me when the coast is clear.

“Hi,” I say softly, smiling as we draw even. He doesn’t reply. I glance up at him. He is looking straight ahead, a furrow between his eyebrows. I have come to recognize this as his look of contemplation. He usually wears it when he is trying to find the right way to tell me something or ask me something.

“What is it?” I ask as we round a bend in the corridor. He stops when our pathway straightens out again. He takes me gently by the wrist and pulls me with him as he leans his back against the wall. He lifts my hand and slowly entwines his fingers with my own. He sighs softly, looking at our hands.

“I heard from a reliable source,” he murmurs, “that you spent all day in the company of another guy.” He raises his eyes to mine, and I see a new expression in them; an expression I can’t quite pin down. Is it concern? Fear? Anger?

No, I realize suddenly. It’s jealousy.

“You mean Spencer?” I ask, almost unable to believe that Dante would be jealous of that.

“The Erudite transfer.”

“Dante, he chose Dauntless, and he passed Stage One. Please don’t mention his old faction. You know it bothers me when you mention mine.”

“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t sound sorry. “It’s an old habit.”

“It’s okay,” I reply, but I don’t think I sound very forgiving, either. “But to answer your question: yes, I spent most of the day with Spencer. He was in a bad way after his twin sister failed Stage One, so I did what any decent person would do.”

“And what exactly is that?” His frown deepens.

“I told him that if he wanted to talk, I’d be there for him, of course” I tell him honestly. “Which, this morning, he did. I just feel bad for him, Dante. He’s lost everything, and I just wanted him to know that he has friends here, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” His tone sounds almost condescending. “Rain, he finished higher than you in the rankings. You need to be careful, or you could end up where his sister did.”

“I know that, Dante,” I snap. I’m beginning to feel annoyed. Plus, I don’t need to be reminded by the guy who finished in first that I barely passed. “I really don’t see what that has to do with me spending time talking to Spencer for a day, especially when I didn’t have any other plans.”

He releases my hand and places both of his on my shoulders, bending his head down to look me closely in the eye. “You really don’t know the effect you have on people, do you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The way you just are. You are more alive than anyone else I know, to the point that it’s contagious. People around you can’t help but feel good around you. You’re like a magnet for positive energy. And right now, Spencer is grasping for something to give his life meaning, and you presented yourself to him as the most likely candidate to fill that void. But I’ve seen this happen before to people, and I’ve seen a lot of them become obsessed. I’ve seen that void swallow people… relationships… I just don’t want to see that happen to you. So I’m just saying, please be careful.”

My defensive stance deflates in my chest as I realize what he’s saying. I can’t blame him for feeling the way he does. I raise my hands and wrap them around his forearms, running my fingers lightly along them. I close my eyes and wait for the heat of my annoyance to cool.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper at last. “You’re right; I had no idea that people saw me like that. And I promise to be careful with Spencer. I’m the last person who wants to see him end up any more of an emotional wreck than he already is, or to take anyone else down with him.”

Dante leans into me, moving his hands from my shoulders to my face, cupping my cheeks in his palms. I open my eyes as he leans his face into mine, pressing our foreheads together.

“Thank you,” he whispers, then kisses me between the eyebrows.

“Speaking of the other initiates,” I murmur, his lips still pressed to my forehead, “there’s a get-together tonight to celebrate not having to observe curfew. I was wondering if you’d like to come?”

He draws back slowly, studying my face as though he’s weighing the desire to spend time with me at a social outing against the folly of being seen in a social setting together. He keeps his hands cupped around my face.

“You do know that there will be talk later,” he says knowingly. “They’ll know it was you who invited me- because let’s face it, who else would? And they’ll suspect why.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, the transfers might not know, but the Dauntless-born will,” he explains. “The initiates do this every year on the second night of the break between the two stages. It’s sort of a tradition. My brothers told me about it. Anyone can invite other initiates, but when a boy invites just one girl, or a girl invites just one boy, it’s usually a sign that one or the other- or both- are interested in each other. They do it every year, even though they know their instructors will be at the party and will see who shows up with whom. The smart ones don’t show up together.”

I consider this for a moment before replying. My answer comes simply.

“Dante, if I was one of the smart ones, I’d be in Erudite,” I say firmly. “As it is, I’m in Dauntless. And I am not afraid of being seen with you at a party. I’m not afraid of what people will think, or what they’ll say. And I think we’re smart enough to not let our…whatever it is… interfere with our rankings in Stage Two.”

“’Whatever it is?’” Dante repeats, lightly mocking me. I shrug. I don’t have an answer. He wraps his arms slowly around me, pulling me into his embrace. He bends down, nuzzling his face into the hollow between my neck and my shoulder. He draws me closer than he’s ever done before, until there is no space left between us at all. I feel like I could disappear into him. I feel his lips moving against my collarbone, but if he is speaking, it’s too softly for me to hear. I slide my arms around his midsection and pull him to me, pressing my face against the side of his neck. The warmth of his skin suddenly strikes me. It’s as though the fire behind his eyes has spread to his skin, but not as dangerous- just inviting, life-giving warmth that caresses me wherever I touch it. We stand in the dim corridor for many minutes, just holding each other.

Eventually we break apart and draw away from the embrace. Dante inhales deeply, looking intently into my eyes.

“I’ll go with you,” he says softly, “and of anyone has any snide comments regarding that, they can say them to our faces.”

I chuckle. “They say them to mine, anyway. They aren’t very afraid of me.”

“Then they can say them to mine. And as far as no one being afraid of you, I have a suggestion that might fix that.” He starts walking back the way we came, motioning for me to walk at his side.

“And what would that be?” I ask, falling into step beside him. I don’t think there’s anything that can make the other initiates fear the cheerful, friendly girl from Amity who barely finished with a passing rank in Stage One.

“Well, Four said we couldn’t use the training rooms for after-hours sessions anymore, right?”

“Right.”

“He didn’t say we couldn’t train in the morning, did he? The training rooms won’t be assigned to the initiates during Stage Two; anyone can use them. Lots of Dauntless members use them regularly, to keep fit and hone their skills. There’s no rule that says we can’t do the same, as long as it’s not at a time when the rooms are closed or when it would interfere with our regular initiate training.”

“So… in the morning, before breakfast?” I ask, catching on as he speaks.

A conspiring smile slides across his face, and he narrows his eyes as he gazes ahead of us.

“Exactly. But be ready to get tough; we’re taking this up a notch. We need to transform you into a warrior.”

I take a deep breath, thinking about what that will mean. I nod, once, decisively.

“You’re on. Now, let’s get to this party.”


	15. Chapter 15

Entering the Pit, Dante and I refrain form any gratuitous physical contact. We both know that this would not only be unwise, but I also think that it would just look tacky. I lead the way with Dante trailing a couple paces behind, and I can sense his tension even though I can’t see him behind me. Dante has never been at ease in social situations, and he may never fully be, but I count it a milestone that he agreed to come with me at all tonight.

I’m surprised to find that we are among the last to arrive at the Pit. Among the transfers, Spencer is the only one who I don’t see as we enter. There are only seven of the Dauntless-born initiates already in the Pit; Dante makes the eighth, meaning two are missing. 

Even Four and Eric are already present. Eric is having an involved conversation with Vince, so Four is the first one to spot us. He watches me emerge into the Pit from the shadowy corridor, and raises an eyebrow when Dante walks in directly behind me. Others notice his expression of interest and heads begin to turn in our direction as we approach the group. I feel a twinge in my stomach when I realize that the majority of this group is now focused on Dante and me. I try to act casual, to act brave. One of the Dauntless-born initiates- a solid, muscular girl with long blond dreadlocks who is dressed in a black cami and cargo pants- rolls her eyes and mutters something to the boy standing at her side. I vaguely remember both of them from Choosing Day, but I can’t remember their names.

“Are you kidding me?” she snorts as I walk past her.

I stop and turn back to her. Dante pauses behind me, silent.

“Problem?” I ask, looking her dead in the face. When I address her, I feel none of the optimistic friendliness that I’d been taught childhood to always use when meeting a person for the first time.

She meets and holds my gaze. Her eyes are pale blue-grey, like ice. She wavers after a minute, and shakes her head.

“You got guts, Transfer,” she says before turning away and retreating to another pair of Dauntless-born initiates whose names have slipped my mind. At least she didn’t address me by using the name of my old faction.

Four approaches us slowly.

“So… this is what happens when I leave two initiates alone to train together?” He says quietly so only we cane hear. His voice is completely neutral, but with Four I assume that everything is serious.

“Not exactly…” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“Fine. Whatever. Just keep yourselves under control. I’ll be watching,” it is clearly not a request, but I catch a glint in his eye as he turns away. It looks surprisingly like satisfaction. I turn back to Dante, giving him a quizzical look. A small smile is playing at the corners of his mouth. I know that he saw that look too, and is thinking the same thing: Four has somehow known about us for a long time but he trusted us to not screw up the trust he put in us, and we didn’t disappoint him.

We walk to the far end of the group, to where Erica is talking to another Dauntless-born girl. They are also staring at us, but Erica is grinning hugely. She introduces me to Jacqueline, who is probably the tallest, strongest sixteen-year-old girl I have ever met in my life. She is almost as tall as Dante. I recognize her name from the ranking board: she finished third; only one place ahead of Erica. It’s apparent that there is a competitive rivalry between Dante and Jacqueline, although she seems more focused on it than he does. She and Erica also seem to have known each other for a long time, though they go out of their way to include me in their conversations. Dante seems at ease just listening in.

A few minutes pass before the rest of the initiates show up. Two Dauntless-born boys and Spencer arrive within seconds of each other from opposite ends of the Pit. As soon as they see that the whole group is assembled, Eric and Four call for our attention.

“Initiates!” Eric bellows. We all fall silent after a few seconds. He continues: “We have a special surprise for you tonight. Traditionally, on this night, Dauntless initiates gather in the Pit for a party to celebrate their successful completion of Stage One. But this year, we are changing the location of this party. We have been granted permission by our leaders- myself included- to build a bonfire on the roof of the building across from the one we jumped off of at the beginning of your initiation. And there is another surprise for all of you when you get up there, so let’s go!”

As one, we turn for the metal staircase at the back of the Pit. Eric insists on taking the lead, leaving Four to take up the rear, and we race up the sixteen flights of stairs- through the Pit, up through the abandoned buildings above- to the top of the aforementioned building. It is much larger in surface area than the one we jumped from, and in its center is a mountain of scrap wood.

“A bonfire!” Vince whoops when he sees it. He rushes toward the pile, jumping and flailing his arms in delight. When we have all arrived on the rooftop, Eric and Four gather us before the pile of wood.

“Initiates,” Eric calls for our attention again, “please bear in mind that this is a party in celebration of you and your achievements. Four and I are here in celebration of our roles as your mentors and instructors. But keep in mind that that is whom we remain. You are not yet full members of our faction, and as such we are mainly here to act as your chaperones. We expect you to conduct yourselves accordingly. That being said, also bear in mind that you have chosen Dauntless as your faction, and nobody knows how to party like Dauntless.”

“In other words, have fun but don’t do anything stupid,” Erica mutters, leaning toward my ear.

“Four, light it up!” At Eric’s cue, Four produces a book of matches from his pocket, lights one, and tosses it onto the pile of wood. There must be some sort of fuel on the wood, because the entire mountain is engulfed in orange flames within a minute. People are whooping and cheering, dancing around the fire as though in some insane tribal ritual. Dante, Erica, and I stand off to one side, watching their antics and laughing heartily. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dante smile for so long before. And his laugh it is low and deep, and reminds me of a sunrise: pure, golden, illuminating.

Reece, one of the Dauntless-born boys, walks up behind us carrying a rucksack. He opens it and offers it to us; it is filled with unmarked silver cans with pull-tabs on the lids- some sort of beverage, which I suspect is alcoholic. I hesitate, but Dante and Erica each grab one. Reece offers the bag to me again, but I shake my head. I’ve never had alcohol in my life, and I don’t want to find out how I’ll react to it while I’m a dozen stories above the ground in the middle of the night. I glance at Eric and Four, who both see what Reese is doing. They watch him, but they do nothing. It’s not breaking any rules, drinking while we are still technically considered minors, but it’s not always looked upon with favor. Some of the factions- like Abnegation- shun alcohol altogether. Then again, they shun everything that isn’t an absolute necessity for survival.

As he consumes the contents of his can I notice that Dante is becoming more relaxed, and even a bit talkative with the other initiates. At one point, several of the Dauntless-born approach us, greeting Erica with familiarity and Dante with a sort of reserved politeness. The girl with the blonde dreadlocks is among them. I have never formally met any of them, and I am surprised when Dante is the one who introduces me.

“Rain, this is Jayce, Henry, Torien, and Matthew,” he indicates each of the boys, “and this is Seneta.” He finishes with the girl with the dreadlocks. There is a strange tension in Dante’s voice, and Seneta looks me up and down before looking me in the eye. Her ice-colored eyes hold mine with a steely coldness. I detect not an ounce of friendliness in her demeanor. They guys all say something in the way of a greeting, but Seneta stays silent.

“Guys, this is Rain,” Dante steps to my side, placing one hand on my shoulder. I tear my eyes from Seneta’s. “She’s the one I pulled from the edge of the roof,” he concluders, looking down at me and smiling. 

“Hi everyone,” I reply, nodding to the group. “It’s good to finally meet you all.” Dante’s fingers absently grasp a stray lock of my hair and smooth it away from my neck. That one thing, that tiny gesture, sets off a bonfire of its own. No one says a word, but I see several sets of eyes widen and jaws drop. I glance around, and see that this group isn’t the only one watching.

Everyone is.

I see Eric and Four standing side by side, not far from where we are. They both have their arms crossed, and Four elbows Eric in the ribs before holding one hand out, palm up, as though he’s expecting Eric to place something in it. Four looks smug; Eric looks disgruntled, and I have the distinct feeling that Eric lost a wager of some sort. Eric waves Four’s hand away.

Seneta sets her jaw and narrows her eyes before turning and practically stomping to the other side of the bonfire. She passes Spencer on her way, and it is his expression that catches me most off-guard.

His blue eyes are locked on me, and they look emptier than ever. His lips are pressed together, setting his mouth in a harsh line. He looks like someone just kicked him for no reason. Then I see his eyes shift to Dante and Spencer’s expression changes like the pile of wood when Four dropped the match on it. For a second it smolders, then a few sparks ignite, and suddenly they are ablaze with something wild and dangerous. The look he shoots Dante is filled with loathing.

It’s not hard to see what path this is going to lead down. I know I am going to have to talk to Spencer soon, to explain things to him, to assure him that he and I are still friends, to let him now that Dante and I revealing our involvement affects nothing between us and he and I can still have our long talks and time together. It’s bad enough that Dante is feeling jealous about the time I spend with Spencer; I don’t need a rivalry starting between these two and, frankly, neither do they.

But tonight is not the time to try to discuss this. Drama at this party will only ruin the mood for everyone. I just smile as reassuringly as I can at Spencer and turn back to Dante and my new acquaintances. After a while, I lose track of Erica. I am not sure when she left our little group, but it takes me a while to locate her. I finally spot her sitting in the shadows at the edge of the roof beside Spencer. They are sitting close together, apart from the rest of the party, apparently deep in a conversation. They seem to have gotten over their awkwardness from the conversation near the housing blocks earlier. I am hoping that Erica noticed what I did, and is reassuring Spencer that this thing between Dante and I changes nothing between Spencer and I. 

Seeming to sense my gaze upon him, Spencer glances up. The light from the fire only barely reaches his face, but I can’t mistake the emptiness in his eyes as they meet mine, or the seething animosity that creeps into them when they flick to Dante at my side.


	16. Chapter 16

Erica and Spencer spend most of their night talking at the edge of the roof. Every now and again, I catch the eye of one of them and give them an encouraging nod or smile. I like the fact that my friends are becoming friends with each other. Dante and I keep mostly to ourselves, standing close to each other and just talking quietly. Some of the others occasionally include us in their conversations or activities, but for the most part they leave us to each other. Several hours later, as the fire is dwindling down, Eric and Four are engaged in a game of chicken involving holding their palms over the coals at its base. A handful of the initiates join them. Four wisely weeds out the more inebriated ones and bars them from participating. Spencer joins the group of participants.

It ends up that there are six: besides Four, Eric, and Spencer; Jayce, Torien, and Seneta hold their open hands, palms-down, over the brilliantly glowing coals. One by one they are eliminated as they pull their hands away from the searing heat. I am shocked when Four is the fourth to retract his hand, and only two participants remain: Spencer and Eric. The two fix their eyes on each other, the light of the diminished flames flickering in across their features, accentuating the harsh lines associated with extreme acts of concentration and willpower. I am standing behind Eric at this point, and I can clearly see Spencer’s face. His eyes are fiercely narrowed, his jaw clenched, and I can hear his breath rushing in and out through his flared nostrils. A long, low grunt escapes Eric’s throat, but he doesn’t move. The crowd falls into a tense yet awed silence.

Suddenly, a piece of wood in the fire pops loudly, sending a shower of sparks in Spencer’s direction. A number of them land on the long sleeve of the sweater he’s wearing and almost instantly it catches fire. Eric reacts first, launching himself forward and pulling Spencer away from the fire. Four is there a split second later, shedding his leather jacket lightning-fast and wrapping it around Spencer’s arm to smother the flames. Jacqueline runs up to them, offering the large steel bottle she’s been carrying with her all night.

“Water,” she explains, and Four takes the bottle with his free hand. He removes the jacket and tears away the scorched fabric of Spencer’s sweater. Beneath it, Spencer’s skin is an angry red, and I see blisters forming in some places. I can only imagine what his and Eric’s palms look like. Spencer’s breath hisses rapidly in and out between his teeth and his face is contorted with pain, but he makes no other sound. Eric and Four quickly decide that he needs to get to the infirmary to treat his burns. Eric directs Four to take Spencer back down while he puts out the remainder of the bonfire and sees to it that the rest of us leave the rooftop.

Dante and I wait until all the rest of the initiates have headed down the staircase before leaving. I glance over my shoulder while I’m on the top step, and I see Eric pouring a slow stream of the remaining water from Jacqueline’s bottle onto the palm he held over the coals. A grimace twists his face; making his many piercings look even more formidably intimidating. I fall back into step beside Dante. We descend in silence, the only sound being the ringing of our footfalls on the metal mesh beneath our booted feet. When we reach the subterranean ground floor near the Pit, Dante pauses and looks at me. He gives a small shake of his head.

“What is it?” I ask. It’s the first that either of us has spoken since Spencer’s arm caught on fire.

“Eric lost, you know,” he says in that low, contemplative voice of his.

“What are you talking about? He was just reacting to Spencer’s sleeve going up in flames,” I reply.

“That’s what it looked like, yeah. But don’t forget that Eric is extremely competitive. He knows full well that, regardless of the reason, he was the first to pull his hand away from the fire,” he explains.

I say nothing. I wonder if that bodes poorly for Spencer. I hope it doesn’t; it was a freak accident that couldn’t have been helped. But Dante is right: Eric will see it as a lost competition. At the same time, Dante is wrong about one thing: Eric isn’t just extremely competitive; he is also a poor sport. I worry about Spencer.

“Do you think they’d let us go see him?” I wonder aloud. “Spencer, I mean. Do you think they’d let us go see him in the infirmary?”

“Probably,” Dante replies, “but I don’t know about this late. If it’s important to you, though, we can ask.”

If it’s important to you.

His words send a stabbing sensation through my chest and my breath catches in my throat. Suddenly I don’t care what the others will think, don’t care what they’ll say. I throw myself into Dante and wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. Everything that everyone assumed about him is so very, very wrong. Dante is not aloof, he is not self-centered, he does not have a short temper, and he is not scary. 

Dante is thoughtful.

Dante is kind.

Dante cares about those who are close to him.

Dante will make sacrifices of his own happiness to make sure that others are happy.

I feel his arms fold around me, his chin resting on the top of my head, holding me tightly. I want to laugh and cry at the same time, and my chest feels like it’s going to burst. I turn my head so my ear is pressed against his chest, just over his heart.

“Thank you,” I whisper simply. It feels woefully inadequate.

Dante steps back, placing his hands on my shoulders. He smiles down at me, then turns toward the Pit. He takes me by the hand and leads me down another corridor that I have not explored. It intersects with a familiar corridor at one point: the adjacent one leads to the training rooms that the Dauntless-born used during Stage One of our training. It makes sense to me then that at the far end of this corridor is the infirmary.

We are asked to wait outside for a few minutes while the nurse on duty checks on Spencer. She returns a moment later and admits us.

“He’s resting, but awake,” she tells us. “His burn wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but we’re keeping him overnight for observation and pain management. You can go in and see him.”

Dante hesitates just inside the door. I give his hand a squeeze.

“I’ll go in first and see how he is,” I murmur. Dante nods and releases my hand.

I enter the room and the first thing that strikes me is its size. It is very long with a row of cots against each wall; one cot placed every dozen feet or so. Each cot has a curtain between it and the next, which can be closed to offer each bed’s occupant some privacy. Some of the cots farther down the room are occupied, but Spencer is near the entry, in an area that he has to himself. He is facing down the row when I enter so he does not see me until I say his name. His head turns toward me, and he smiles when I step into the light beside his bed.

“Rain,” he whispers hoarsely, “you came.” He stretches a hand out to me. His arm is bandaged from wrist to bicep. I take his hand gingerly and hold it lightly. His fingers wrap around mine and I can’t help but feel their fragility. The bones and tendons in the back of his hands are trembling a little, and he grips a little too hard for comfort. His hands are very different than Dante’s, whose are always strong and steady, yet gentle when they hold mine.

“Of course I came,” I reassure him. “You’re my friend and I was worried about you.”

His eyes held the faintest hint of a glimmer when he first saw me, but it fades after I speak. It occurs to me that I am the only one who has come to visit him.

“But I’m not the only one who’s worried,” I assure him quickly. “In fact, I brought along someone else who is.”

“Erica?” Spencer’s eyes widen hopefully.

“No, but I’m sure she’ll come soon, too,” I tell him, then call to Dante: “He’s okay! Come on in.”

Dante walks in with his thumbs hooked through his belt loops, his eyes holding an amiable expression that’s almost alien to his features. He walks directly up to Spencer’s bed.

“Hey, Spencer,” he greets him. Spencer says nothing; he releases my hand, almost shoving it away. I look back at Spencer in shock. He pulls his bandaged arm under the sheet quickly. For several seconds he just stares at Dante, and I see that seething distaste creep back into his eyes.

“Go. Away.” He says sharply, then turns his back to us. He pulls the sheet up to his ear with his other hand- the one that he’d held over the coals- and it too is heavily bandaged. I start to protest, but Dante places a restraining hand on my shoulder. He shakes his head at me in silence.

“I’ll come back when you’ve had a chance to rest,” I tell Spencer. He grunts and refuses to look at us. Dante urges me toward the exit, and I follow him out into the corridor and back towards the Pit. 

This is the first time I have been out in the compound after the city’s mandatory lights-out policy. The only thing illuminating the corridors are the dim greenish-blue lights that run off solar energy, collected by cells on the roof high above during daylight hours. They make Dauntless Headquarters look alien and unfamiliar. Dante seems to know his way around well enough, even in this unusual lighting, so I just follow his lead as he escorts me back toward the Pit.

“I don’t understand,” I say, thinking aloud as we walk, “I thought Spencer was actually in a pretty good mood when I went in there. He seemed genuinely happy that someone had come to see him. It seemed like he would have welcomed more people, too. I don’t know why he reacted that way when you came in.”

Dante walks on for a few more seconds, then stops abruptly and turns to face me.

“You really don’t know?” He asks, his tone sounds chastising.

“No,” I say honestly, but a bit more sharply than I intended. Dante shakes his head and brushes my cheek with his fingertips.

“Rain,” he whispers, closing his eyes while his fingertips linger on my cheek, “you have got to start becoming aware of the effect that someone as consistently positive as you has on someone like Spencer. Or…” he trails off.

He opens his eyes. He looks afraid.

“Or on someone like me,” he finishes.

And suddenly it all makes sense to me. When I first met Dante, he told me, it was my lust for life that attracted him because he’d never had anything like that in his own life. It is that same positive energy that has drawn Spencer to me because Spencer has lost everything that was important to him. He took for granted that he and Leah would always be together simply because they always had been, and when he lost her he automatically attached himself to the first thing that represented a replacement to the things he’d lost. And that first thing was me.

I can’t even speak. I don’t know what to say. I just stand there and hold Dante’s gaze. After some time, he breaks the spell by leaning forward and brushing his lips to my forehead.

“Come on,” he murmurs. “I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

I nod, and let him take my hand and lead me through the near darkness across the Pit and down the opposite corridor.

At the dorm room door, Dante turns to me and takes me lightly into his arms. His hands trace my spine up from the small of my back, halting when his fingertips reach the nape of my neck. He cradles my whole head in his hands, tilting it back and looking into my eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “for inviting me to go with you tonight.”

“I should be thanking you,” I whisper back, “for going with me to see Spencer, even though you probably knew how he’d react. I’m sorry about him, and sorry that I didn’t listen to you when you tried to warn me about his behavior earlier…”

“Shh,” he hushes me with a finger pressed to my lips. “You are right about him, too: he does need friends. And if that’s what you want to be to him, I’m all for it. But he just has to be made to understand that there is a limit to that. You could never replace his sister, although he seems desperate to believe that.”

“I don’t know how to make him understand that, though. I thought he already did. Clearly I was wrong.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way. You have a knack for finding a way of… accomplishing difficult tasks.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“Just this.”

Dante moves so quickly I am caught completely off guard. Suddenly my feet aren’t touching the ground anymore, and I am spinning around and around. Dante has lifted me up, one arm wrapped around my back just below my shoulders and one behind my knees. He cradles me against his chest as he spins. I suppress my laughter and bury my face in the warmth of his chest. At length he stops spinning and I look up into his face. His hair has come loose entirely from its usual ponytail, and it frames his face in feather-soft tendrils. I brush a few of them back, tucking them behind his ear, and I wrap my arms around his neck and pull my face to his. His lips part to meet mine. I feel my own tremble as I press them to his.

He holds me in his arms for the duration of the kiss. It is not one of our usual soft, tender kisses like the ones we shared as we lay on the net looking up at the stars together. This one is deeper, more solid, and more certain. When we finally break apart, we both gasp. Dante touches his forehead to mine, holding me close to his chest. He closes his eyes, and whispers against my lips.

Ten minutes later, I am in bed with my blankets drawn up to my chin. I am on my back, staring at the blackness that is the ceiling above me. I think about Dante, probably back at his dorm and in his own bed by now, and wonder if he’s thinking about me as I’m thinking of him. His whispered words play themselves over and over again in my head.

“Rain brings life, even where I thought there was none. And that is why I love you.”


End file.
